Alone
by xJust-Bethx
Summary: After a raid planned by Macavity, the Junkyard is left emptied of all toms but one. Now Tugger and the queens must find out where their friends are, but there is tension in the tribe and Tugger knows it won't be long till his newfound anger lashes out.
1. Plan

Alone

Cats

Alone

Disclaimer: The whole idea of Cats belongs to T.S. Elliot, whilst the musical belongs to Mr Andrew Lloyd Webber. I know you already know that, but I just don't want to get fined unbelievable sums of money.

* * *

"Oh, in the great name of Bast, why did you choose _me_?!"

Being chased by Macavity's goons wasn't fun. Not when Tugger's lungs felt like they had been stuffed with cotton wool and his nostrils with something thick and sticky.

"Hey, Tugger! Come on! We just wanna play!" the dangerously huge cats called to him as they ran. Said cat dodged a dustbin, panting so hard his stomach felt like it was going to spew out of his mouth.

"I think I'll pass on that!"

Tugger rolled under a fence – much to the surprise of passing humans – and sped to the junkyard. The towering piles of lost treasure and sparkling plastic looked like the Heaviside Layer to him at that moment; the sun was sinking behind it, surrounding it in a divine, golden glow.

"Macavity's gonna be pissed," one of the goons hissed angrily. He was a sandy colour, and very scrawny and skinny. "This is the third time he's escaped us!"

"No, it won't be! Move ya arses!" a second cat growled.

The group forced themselves to increase the speed of their scraggly limbs. Muscles strained as they tried to catch up with the cat that had evaded them, somehow, for the past four days. They couldn't fail Macavity this time.

Tugger glanced around and panicked at the sight of the gasping marauders, who were steadily closing in. He couldn't help but feel like a doomed gazelle being chased by starving, crazed lions.

"Whoa, uh oh. Like, now would be a good time to appear, Munkustrap. _Munkustrap!!_" Tugger roared so loudly he nearly deafened himself. Where was that stupid tabby when you needed him? He was probably reciting beautiful, romantic and incredibly boring poems to Demeter, or ordering about his right hand cats just for the fun of it, instead of rescuing his poor, mentally wounded brother. It was just like the Jellicle Guardian to not be there when someone needed guarding.

A paw suddenly grabbed Tugger's tail, and he collapsed onto his stomach with a loud 'oomph!' A huge, ragged cat with nasty scars on his muzzle swung the maine coon over onto his back and hissed with such ferocity that Tugger shuddered under the big feet.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay, I'm sorry. Can I just … whoa, time out. Ever heard of Catfresh? Does wonders for your breath, seriously."

"Silence!" the greying beast yelled. He placed a yellow claw under Tugger's chin threateningly. "You can either come with us peacefully, or we'll kill you. We've have had _enough_ of chasing you about London like it's some freakin' goose chase! What'll it be, runt?

Tugger pretended to think for a moment, tapping a claw on his chin.

"Hmm, well, when you put it that way, I'd immediately hand myself in. On the other paw, death would be a much more pleasant experience than being in Macavity's vile clutches."

"Choose, moggie! Macavity wants you, stat!" Butch screeched, pressing his claw into the maine coon's throat. He immediately regretted his sudden outburst. The cat beneath him smiled wryly.

"Ah," Tugger said, suddenly thoughtful, "Then I choose death. Kill me now and get it over with. Have a little dance in my blood then you can skip back to your, erm, skip, or whatever you live in. Come on then, what're you waiting for? Christmas?"

The greying beast shook his paw in frustration. What he wouldn't give to have permission to kill this stupid kitten. The cat below him smiled another obnoxious smile.

"Alright, you had your choice, now. Hey, I don't wanna be the one to break up this social gathering, but I got plans for July. See ya." And before Butch even established what had been said, Tugger had sped from underneath him and towards the junkyard. Fortunately, the sandy tom managed to nip the maine coon's leg before he had gotten completely away.

"What a goof," a goon commented unhelpfully. Butch snarled in disbelief and began pacing back and forth, tail swirling in anger.

"I can't believe you lot let him get away!" he growled. The goons twitched their ears, but said nothing. "Macavity will have our guts because of this. What, in the name of all things dark and painful do we do? We can't get him out of the junkyard without being clawed at like scratch posts."

The small group of cats looked to the sky as if hoping for a sign from Bastet herself. It seemed it would take only a miracle to catch the large maine coon, who had unfortunately inherited the same conniving, arrogant, sneaky and tricky mind as Macavity. It was like trying to catch smoke. Only he was worse.

"I propose a raid," stated an oddly coloured, fat cat. He had brown fur that seemed to shine purple in the light.

"A raid? Against the Jellicles? You gotta be joking," the sandy tom said, waving his paw in dismissal.

"We could gather everyone. Every stinkin' goon. We'd have that place in no time, and Tugger wouldn't be so cocky then, would he," the purplish cat said, louder this time as his idea slowly unravelled. "They wouldn't know what had hit 'em."

Butch bit his lip. To go against the Jellicles was like going against the Greek Gods of London. They were happy, healthy, well looked after cats with their humans wrapped around their little claws. Constant catnip, exercise and good diets kept those cats in shape. Not to mention all the singing and dancing.

On the other side of the coin, there was Macavity and his henchcats. All were strays, probably abused at some point in their lives, weak, underfed, lonely and mentally weak. Macavity prided himself on being a stray, believing it gave him the image of toughness, but really, deep down, he was all alone like the rest. No family, no home, no one to say they cared for him.

Anger seeped into Butch's chest. Why should those prancy Jellicles get all the good treatment? Why should they, the embodiments of irritation and loftiness, reap all the benefits? The brown, chubby cat was right. A raid would earn their well earned retribution against the weaklings.

"Men," Butch addressed his cats, "this is war. Who eats all the tuna while we're left with the bones? Jellicles. Who gets to lay by a warm fire every night while we shiver in the streets? Jellicles. Who are patted, stroked and welcomed to their home while we're kicked, scorned and spat on? Jellicles. My fellow cats, battle is at hand, and those lousy excuses for animals will pay for the injustice unfairly placed upon us. Are you with me?"

The scraggly cats sat up straight and stared hard at their leader. An unspoken consent passed between them all and they nodded together. Butch smiled darkly, and then turned to face the junkyard. In the distance, he could still see Tugger running, looking very much like Macavity himself as his thick fur swirled in the wind.

"Tugger, my friend, prepare for your destruction," Butch said lowly.

* * *

"_Munkustrap!!" _Tugger shouted as he entered the junkyard. Around him, tall piles of junk remained unmoving. No smallish, silver tom to be seen. That cat would wish he hadn't been born once Tugger was through with him.

"Munkustrap! Get your scraggly rear in action and over here!"

"Tugger!" came an excited yowl. The maine coon gulped slightly. Etcetera. Resistance was futile.

The splodged kitten's head popped up from behind a washing machine. Her dinner-plate sized eyes swelled larger at the sight of her beloved, then even larger as she spotted the blood dripping off of his paw. The expression on her face made him think the world was coming to an end. Or hers, at least.

"Oh, Tugsy! Your poor paw! What happened to you?" she flew over to him in a single bound and licked his foot as if it was a holy relic in need of a delicate cleaning.

"Meh. Got into a spot of bother with some brawly, oversized Macavity cronies is all. No biggie. Have you seen Munkustrap?" he asked, knowing the only answer he would get would be an expression void of anything but love and a few drops of dribble. Growing slightly concerned, Tugger moved, disturbing her adoring gaze and the puddle at her paws.

He continued walking, though he pronounced his limp despite all the disturbing attention he was receiving. Well, it _did _hurt. Nothing wrong with exaggerating every now and then.

"Tugsy Tuggs, you'll never guess what Electra did today!" Etcetera giggled.

"What?" he asked, preparing to switch off completely. The kitten's next few words were hard to decipher as she burst into snorts of laughter every two seconds.

"Well, well, we were hanging out by the old banger, right? And Pouncival dared Electra to go inside and mess about with the sticks and buttons and stuff, and she did! So she went in, pushed this stick thing and the car started moving!"

"Enlightening."

"So, what did you do today, Tugs? Anything fun? Huh? Huh?! I bet you did something really cool, like…like… I don't know! Did you find a queenfriend? Is she pretty? Prettier than me? Huh?!"

Tugger sat and pinched the bridge of his nose. Did this kid ever shut up? It was like having a wind up mouse that never stopped ticking and followed him everywhere. Literally everywhere. Many a time had he woken up with her big goo-goo eyes staring at him from the hole in his wardrobe-den, like big balls of blue glass that never blinked. Just stared. Stared with absolute adoration. It scared him sometimes.

"Want all the details? I got up at 8:53 in the evening, mucked about in the city, stole a pie from a windowsill, had a pee against a car wheel and then wondered into my friends, the cronies. Now I'm here, with you, explaining my day. Have you seen Munkustrap?"

The kitten giggled loudly, then reared up and placed her paws on Tugger's furry chest.

"You're funny."

The maine coon was about to make a curt reply when suddenly his oh-so-wonderful brother, Munkustrap, appeared over the top of an armchair. With him were Demeter, Bombularina and Alonzo. They stood against the rising sun, looking like the chosen ones as Tugger sat in the shadow of a junk pile. His brow furrowed in annoyance.

"Everlasting Cat, you're back! We wondered where you had gotten to," Munkustrap said formally, as if addressing a stranger. "I thought I heard you yelling from the distant wind, but thought nothing of it."

"Thanks for the help, then," Tugger growled. "Yup. Great overprotective big brother you are. Hey, I'd love to sit and chat and schmooze around like an invalid but I got places to go, people to see. Give Deut the ol' respect, would ya?" The large cat pounded his fist on his chest.

"B-b-b-but, Tugs! Your paw!" Etcetera wailed. "Let me clean it!" She turned to face the other adults. "He's been in another fight."

Munkustrap sighed and dropped off the armchair to pad towards his sulking brother. He poked Tugger in the foreleg and gave him a rare smile.

"Hey, it doesn't look too deep. Maybe Jennyanydots could have a look at it?"

"She wouldn't touch me with a ten foot scratchpost."

"Maybe if you said the 'P' word?"

"Hmm, I can think of a certain four letter word that begins with P, then joins with 'off' to make a suitable answer to that suggestion."

"Ha ha. Seriously, have it looked at before your humans vetify you. Jenny won't mind if you're _nice_ to her, okay? Plus, I'd prefer it if you stayed here today. You've been attacked three times now. Bit suspicious if you ask me."

Tugger rolled his eyes. Of course he'd be going out today. Who did Munkustrap think he was to assume the Rum Tum Tugger was afraid of some goofy goonies who wanted to hand him to Macavity, who would then personally rip him to shreds and feed him to a starving pollicle? Ah, the power of negative suggestion. Would result in his unfortunate death, but the fortunate annoyance of Munkustrap, which Tugger found amusing at all times.

"Turn that frown upside down, mister," came Bombularina's smooth, sensuous voice that never failed to stir Tugger's inhibitions. He watched her glide towards him, her hips swaying and tail curling as if repressing something feral. His sulkiness abruptly faded away as the saucy queen eyed him seductively. She stood on her hind legs and pulled his head to her belly, hugging his neck. Etcetera watched her and immediately tried to look taller.

"You seem … restless today, foxy, babe, sugar," the maine coon growled into the scarlet queen's belly. Munkustrap rolled his eyes and walked towards Demeter and Alonzo, who were patiently waiting on the armchair. He would talk to Tugger later, when the stupid cat was thinking with his head and not with anything else. They left the hugging cats and beckoned for Etcetera to follow them.

It cost the poor kitten half her soul to leave her love at that moment, but she knew better than to invade his privacy. With one last fleeting look at the black tom, she bound away with short, excited leaps.

Bombularina watched her leave, then smiled and sat in front of the still grouchy looking Tugger. She rubbed his wounded foot gently, her green eyes staring at him as if trying to read his thoughts.

"How many were there?" she asked, turning her gaze to the golden paw she was holding.

"'Bout half a dozen, I reckon. At least they haven't permanently damaged me this time," Tugger gestured at his dark ear which had a large chip in it from a previous fight. He sighed, filled with melancholy. "But my life flashed before my eyes when the big one floored me. Gods, he was fat."

Bombularina's gaze suddenly turned even more seductive. Tugger was slightly discerned. The queen seemed _really _horny today.

"Would you mind if you were … floored again?" she said quietly, but with enough spunk to destroy an army. The pain in Tugger's foot suddenly disappeared.

"Kinky," he laughed low in his throat; eyebrows twitching in what he hoped was a seductive gesture. Bombularina let loose a dry growl as he kissed her throat.

"Rum Tum Tugger, you'll be the death of me," she giggled. "Later, babe. I'm sure everyone's dieing to see you."

"Pah, I wish," Tugger snorted. "They're more interested in Munkustrap's left ear than my welfare."

And that was the honest truth. Tugger did what he could to gain the adoration of the whole tribe but just couldn't seem to manage it. Munkustrap, the Chosen One, had fought Macavity and was now hailed as something close to a god. Cats from all over London paid him visits for advice and to give him some nice little titbit (which he usually gave to Tugger, but still). 'Gifts do not provoke an honest heart' Munkustrap had said, so noble it made Tugger want to throw up. _Everyone _liked receiving gifts.

Tugger and Bombularina made their way to the centre of the yard, where a few cats stared in wonder at the old red banger, which had miraculously moved an inch or two. Amongst the crowd was Quaxo – no, Mr Mistoffelees. The magician brained anyone who called him Quaxo.

The tuxedo tom looked at Tugger and grinned.

"Been in another fight?" he asked, almost hopefully. He loved gory details, surprisingly. Probably because he was so innocent it stung.

"You know it, boy. Any bright ideas as to why I'm being mutilated every five minutes?" Tugger sighed. He hadn't actually told anyone Macavity was after him. Too much fuss and worry. A bit odd for someone who loved attention, but worry was the wrong kind.

"Umm…nope. Maybe they just like the taste of your blood?"

"Thanks, fleabag. Haven't you got some spoon bending to do or something?"

"Naw. I'm about to prepare for Asparagus's party, actually. It's his eleventh birthday today." Misto patted his neat little bow tie.

Tugger tried not to roll his eyes. A party for the more elderly members of the tribe usually meant sitting around the truck wheel as Old Deuteronomy spoke about whoever's birthday it was. That was then usually followed by a few balloons being released into the sky, goodbyes, and then bed. Not what you would expect of an eleventh birthday party.

"Misto, Bomba, if I ever have an eleventh birthday party, hey, just shoot me, okay? Poor old dad would be stuck on what achievements of mine to remind everyone of," Tugger admitted. He once won the competition for the biggest furball, but that wasn't necessarily what you could call admirable.

"That reminds me," Bombularina said, eyes lighting up. "Old D wanted to talk to you, Tugger."

"Great. Probably a lecture on why it's my fault Macavity's after- Er, Macavity's goons are playing cat n' mouse with me," he scratched his ear sheepishly. Misto and Bombularina looked at each other wearily, but didn't say anything.

"I'll see ya at the party then," the maine coon said. He left his friends and ran towards the northern area of the junkyard, where his father's den was. He couldn't help but notice how large the junkyard was getting nowadays. A few years ago, it didn't even cover up half of the flat ground, but now objects were being piled precariously on top of each other, just waiting for an unsuspecting Jellicle to wander past. It was like the humans didn't have room for their unwanted possessions anymore.

Tugger leapt gracefully over a pile of sad looking teddy bears and to his father's den, which was an old cabinet with lots of plush cushions and odd little trinkets Deuteronomy had collected over the years on the top shelf.

"Deuters, I'm home!" Tugger sang loudly, knocking on the translucent glass door. There was a low shuffling inside, then the door swung open slowly like an old creaky door, instantly reminding him of a haunted mansion. Tugger gulped slightly and went inside.

"Close the door."

The command was cold and harsh. Old Deuteronomy glared at Tugger so hard it bought to mind the term 'if looks could kill'. Or leave a rather nasty rash, at least.

The door clicked shut and Tugger sat on his behind, hunched over and eyes large to try and look innocent. Needless to say it didn't work.

"What do you think you're doing messing around with Macavity's henchcats again? You know that once they get hold of you they will not let go!" Deuteronomy said, so quiet yet angry. It was always worse when he did this than when he shouted. The disappointment rolled off the old, grey cat in large ebbs, making Tugger flatten his ears in discomfort.

"I'm sick of Munkustrap coming to me with the day's report and having him tell me you've been hurt because you don't have any common sense! You're just like your grandfather; barrelling into situations without thinking. But you're worse! I've never known any cat like you at all! You're a disgrace to our family, to the Jellicles. Only the Everlasting Cat knows why you haven't been killed yet!" Deuteronomy's voice gradually got louder, making Tugger feel like a young kitten again. If Old D kept this up some poor passer-by would be covered in shattered cabinet glass.

"Do you think it's clever, what you're doing? Do you think it makes you look 'cool'? Big? It's not – it's stupid! Violence only leads to hatred, and that's not what we need from Macavity and his cats now!"

"Hey, it's not like they were singing our praises before, is it? Plus, they started on me! I was just minding my own business and-"

"I don't care. All I know is that-" Deuteronomy paused and rubbed his forehead, trying to get rid of the headache called Tugger. "All I know is that you could have been killed. Are you so selfish to not think what that would do to us all?"

"No one would give a flying fu-"

Old Deuteronomy hissed angrily, interrupting his son.

"It's true," Tugger sulked. "No one would notice if I mysteriously disappeared. Well, maybe Etcetera would, and probably Bombularina, but that's all."

"You're behaving like a pubescent kit," Deuteronomy sighed. "Honestly, it's like that time you were dumped for Alonzo."

Tugger folded his arms and hunched over moodily. Stupid Alonzo.

"Tugger, you're very special to me, do you know that?" Old D tried a new tactic – the truth. His son flicked his ears forwards. "You might be obnoxious, moody and rude, but you remind me so much of your mother-"

"Gee, thanks."

"-And if she were still here she would be very proud of you, despite your beliefs. Son, please just be more careful in the future. I don't want to hear the news that you've been gravely injured, or worse. I couldn't bear it. Do you know how awful it is for kittens to die before their parents?"

Tugger chanced a quick peek at his father and saw an almost bewildered, pleading expression on the old cat's face. He sighed.

"How could I ignore a face like that? Alright, dad, I'll be more careful."

Old Deuteronomy pulled his son into a crushing bear hug, producing the wonderful sounds of Tugger's cracking bones.

"Thank you, my boy. You've made an old tom happy," Old D sniffed. "Will you be joining Asparagus's celebration tonight?"

"The Rum Tum Tugger does not miss a party. Not if there's free catnip," he replied, buffing his claws on his mane. "I'll give you time to sort your whiskers out, eh? I'll go and see if I can nick some party poppers off the humans, and maybe some food. I'm thinking I should begin to make myself useful around here, dad."

"Good boy," Deuteronomy nodded, pleased. "Asparagus will be especially grateful. As will Munkustrap, who we all know you're desperate to please!"

"Am not."

"Remember, stay on the pavement, don't use main roads, keep-"

"-Keep to the shadows, don't talk to strangers, yadda yadda. And I'll make sure to wash behind my ears, too. Geez, you'd think I wasn't a fully grown tom. I'll be fine, dad. Honestly. Feel free to horribly torture me if I come back with so much as a bruise."

Tugger waved a quick farewell to his tutting father and leapt out of the cabinet. He sucked in the chilly morning air just to feel the freshness burn his throat. Honestly, this was _not _his day, and the sun had hardly risen yet. First being attacked by bumbling henchmen, pestered by a certain bouncy kitten, looked down upon by his uptight brother and shouted at by his nervous father. What had he done do deserve such sudden hecticness in his usually laid back lifestyle? Shaking his head, he trotted back to the centre of the Junkyard where Munkustrap, Alonzo and Skimbleshanks were trying to push the car back into it's original position.

"Awright, chaps?" he greeted, bounding down a junk pile. He landed gracefully and trotted towards the sweating toms.

"Tugger…think you could…give us a paw?" Munkustrap gasped, pushing his shoulder as hard as he could into the bumper. His brother merely stood with his paws on his hips and an eyebrow raised.

"Munk, Electra moved that car about two inches. I know you're a perfectionist, but seriously."

Munkustrap gave one last heave, then gave up. He flopped onto his grey backside and wiped his forehead.

"We don't want the pile behind it to fall over and submerge mine and Demeter's home, but I guess it didn't move that far… Where're you off too, Tugger?" The tabby asked severely, watching his brother begin to saunter towards the junkyard gates. Knowing the maine coon's luck, he would saunter right back in with a missing ear.

"To the humans to get stuff for the party. Is that all right with you, mum?" Tugger rolled his eyes.

"I'd prefer it if someone went with you."

"You go from one extreme to the other, you do. First you let me get half eaten by the goons, and now, hey, why not have me followed? And anyway, the sun's out. The henchcats can't come out in sunlight or they explode."

Munkustrap just shook his head, then motioned to a pair of queens who were spectating nearby.

"Bombularina, Cassandra, would you go with Tugger to his house? It's dangerous for him to be out on his own at the moment."

The two queens obediently strolled to Tugger's side and smiled at him prettily, too slender and graceful to be his body guards. Slightly embarrassed, Tugger winked at them both. This would either seriously damage his reputation or upgrade him to some sort of pimp. Despite himself, the maine coon would have chosen the 'damaging reputation' part. What if the goons found them? He'd rather have the queens be safe than wear a large hat, fur coat and jewel encrusted cane.

Well, the cane could always come in handy.

"Alright, but you'll be paying for this later, Munkustrap. I might really screw up your life and move the car another few millimetres."

"Just go, Tugs. Be careful."

Tugger wished he got a tin of Sheba 'beef and heart in gravy' every time someone said that.

The trio turned to leave the junkyard, still feeling Munkustrap's eyes on their backs. The silver tabby had a _very _bad feeling about this. But he couldn't baby his brother. Not anymore. The maine coon was almost a head taller than himself, and could be very threatening when he wanted to be. He knew the streets of London like the back of his own paw, so there was no way he could ever get lost. Munkustrap turned away and joined Alonzo and Skimbleshanks in their car pushing.

* * *

Butch, for the first time in his life, felt like his innards were going to emerge violently from his mouth. Macavity was going to be so mad; the explosion caused would rival Krakatoa in destruction. He would make sure Butch's head was on pride display outside the abandoned warehouse just to warn his enemies of what he could do. Said cat swallowed noisily as he and his fellow goons stood outside the ragged hole that led into the warehouse.

"It was nice workin' with ya, guys," the sandy tom, Topper, said wearily. Butch stiffened in anger. If it wasn't for that stupid tom cat … no prey ever escaped Butch's grasp, ever. He didn't care what he would have to go through to get another chance to swipe at that fat-headed brother of Macavity's. No one made _him_ look stupid.

"Shut up," a grey, broad queen muttered. "Once we get our plan over to Macavity, he's sure to forgive us. It's pure gold."

"Whatever, Cleo. Just leave the talkin' to Butch, eh? Y'know Macavity doesn't tolerate queens as much as toms, so keep ya gob shut, yeah?" Topper growled. He laughed when Cleo hissed under her breath. "Stop ya purrin', love. You flatter me too much."

"I swear to you, Tops. One day you're gonna find your tomhood where you'll never find it! Not that you've got much of one to hide," Cleo chuckled. A few of the other toms stifled giggles under their paws, and received death stares from Topper.

Butch rolled his eyes at his gang's incompetence. None of them could surpass a slug in intelligence, and their conversations usually consisted of how many kittens they've beaten up in their lifetime, usually followed by raucous laughing and beating of backs. That was why Butch was the leader; he was able to function at the same capacity as the rest of his species.

There was Topper, small and scrawny but with fangs that could tear the head clean off a large rat. He was fast and vicious, and had a reputation of attacking human kittens for no reason. Then there was Cleo, a once pretty queen who turned her back on her tribe and pursued a life of crime. Now her brown eyes glinted with a terrible knowingness only a queen could possess. Her grey fur was matted, though curled in some places daintily, hinting at a softer side to her. Fourth in rank was Vito, brown and overweight, even though food was scarce in this district. He too had turned away from his tribe, but out of fear for his life, since Macavity had many enemies in that particular group of cats. He had a crush on the tough Cleo and was never afraid to admit it. Then there were the three other toms, their lives as unimportant and ruined as the rest of theirs.

"Idiots," Butch grumbled as Topper ripped a few hairs from Cleo's tail, obviously the only comeback he could think of. And when was that damn Macavity going to meet them? He swore to be there when the sun was highest in the sky.

"Toms, queen," came the smooth, sultry voice of the Hidden Paw himself. _Speak of the devil, _Butch couldn't help but think as the flaming red beast of a cat slid to the ground from behind a crumbling wall. Even the sun seemed afraid of the menace, slipping behind a cloud and darkening the whole of London. His features were long and dangerously elegant, skinny yet strong. His face was almost obscured by heavy patterning. Sharp, white fangs curved over his bottom lip, only adding to his evil presence and making him look like a small but ferocious demon. He was lithe, smooth and incredibly cunning, though his shocking appearance tended to make someone forget those details.

"Macavity," Butch nodded formally. "My deepest apologies, but we failed to catch your brother. He tricked his way from under my paws."

Macavity's glowing eyes narrowed dangerously. He licked his lips and flexed his black claws, clearly preparing himself to punish. The anger that was always evident on his being increased tenfold. But still, his voice remained low and mocking.

"You were tricked by the Rum Tum Tugger, hmm? I'd say that's a major flaw you have, Butch. You can't see past the little things that are always right under your nose. He's smarter than you think, you idiot cat. He could almost be as great a criminal mastermind as I – we share the same gene pool, after all.

"But of course, he won't _be _a criminal mastermind until you catch him. I'm severely disappointed with all of you."

"Sir, if I could speak?" Cleo said, stepping forward. Macavity glared at her for a moment, then sat back and nodded politely for her to continue. "Vito here suggested we gather as many henches as possible and raid the junkyard. Us lot could kidnap Tugger and drag him here while the others distract the Jellicles and beat them into submission. Why, we could even kidnap more Jellicles!" she beamed, growing excited. "They'd pay a heavy price for say, four or five of them."

Macavity held up a paw, silencing her. He remained quiet as he considered the plan, his eyes calculating as he saw it play out in his mind. Butch stopped breathing in anticipation. If Macavity agreed to this plan, he possibly wouldn't be declawed as punishment. He hoped the maine coon was in a good mood.

"I had considered it before, but there are some good fighters in the Jellicles. I don't want to lose any valuable henches," Macavity mumbled, apparently speaking to himself. "A surprise attack? Maybe we could set the lower ranks on them first – let them have their fun. Then the stronger ones could join in while you drag away my brother. And _only_ my brother. He's all I want at this present time."

"It's a good plan, sir," Topper put in quickly, trying to get into the fiend's good books.

"That it is. All right," Macavity said, more clearly. He got to his feet and stepped lithely around them. The males watched in fear, but Cleo watched in fascinated anticipation as the maned beast walked around them like a lion sizing up his prey. A strange smugness appeared on his severely striped face. "I shall gather up the other henches. You go and prepare a plan to get my brother here. The raid shall begin at tomorrow's dusk. Meet the others at the back of the old bus station downtown," he ordered, heading towards the hole that led into the warehouse. "I'm pleased with you all, especially you, Cleo, for having the courage to speak up to me. Most would have trembled at my paws."

The grey queen puffed out her chest in pride. Topper glared at her and 'accidently' clipped her ear with his tail.

"I'll be expecting you here on Wednesday with Tugger in your claws. It isn't too much to ask. Fail me at suffer the consequences."

Macavity's eyes met Butch's before he disappeared into the dark hole, leaving them to shiver in the winter air. Maybe it was only their imaginations, but they heard the birds begin to sing once again, and the sun appear from behind the large, ominous cloud it had fallen behind. The sounds of reality hit them again as the aura of evil vanished from their presence, at least for a little while.

"So, we need to plan this fully," Butch growled, breaking the awkward silence. He began pacing back and forth like a caged beast, suddenly having his authority returned to him. "After meeting the other henches at the bus station, I say we sniff out Tugger and wail on him till he can barely breathe. Macavity didn't say anything about not hurting him. Then we drag him back here at midnight at the very latest."

"What if he escapes?" Topper suggested, still looking pissed off at the compliments Cleo had received from the cat of all cats.

"Then we chase him until he can't run anymore, no matter how far. We _will _bring Tugger to Macavity. If either of you screw up, I'll make sure it's you that gets the blame, and not me, got that?" Butch hissed. The other cats nodded vigorously. "It's only a matter of time till we become Macavity's right-hand cats. We can't fail. Tugger says his goodbyes tomorrow or it's our heads on the line."

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AN: Thanks for reading (if you managed to get through the whole chapter). I would really appreciate a review of some sort - yeah, I know it can be a bummer if you wanna like, go eat dinner or something, but just a word or two? I don't mind any criticism SO LONG as you tell me where to improve, because I know this is a rather nooby attempt at a story. I'm having trouble with making a paragraph nice and long, so help would be appreciated also. :D

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	2. Passionate foes

Tugger, Cassandra and Bombularina strolled through near empty suburbs of London as fast as their paws would stroll. Asparagus's party was only hours away, and they still hadn't collected any bits and pieces from Tugger's home. He hoped they were in – they tended to lock him out nowadays whenever they went for a drive or daytrip. Last time he had been left alone, he, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer had trashed the kitchen so badly the fully grown female human screamed as soon as she laid eyes upon it. As a result, Tugger was left to shiver and starve on the doorstep for hours on end. Life was tough.

"I still think this whole thing's absurd," Cassandra pouted, her elegant snout lengthening in protest. "You're not a newborn kit, Tugger. Why do you let Munkustrap treat you so?"

"Meh. He's just being a brother … or mother, more like. He really puts the mother in smother," Tugger said dozily. It was that time of day he really enjoyed; when the sun was low in the sky, when the streets were peacefully quiet and when the birds were singing the song of twilight. He usually slept outdoors at this part of his usually inactive lifestyle. But now, things were just slightly messed up.

"It's for the best," Bombularina commented. She too seemed to be relaxing in the near vacant, chilly breeze. "We wouldn't want to find nothing left of you but a red stain on the ground. Maybe an eyeball."

"They're worse things," Tugger smiled. He watched Bombularina raise an eyebrow in question. "Like, I don't know, losing my sex drive. I would be nothing without my mojo."

Cassandra smiled, too.

"Even if you lost a leg and became nothing but an empty shell, you would still have your mojo. If no queen can resist you now, what would it be like if you became dark, moody, lugubrious and had a tortured past? The queens would be falling head over paws for you," she commented dryly.

"I already am those things. Sometimes," Tugger replied, eyebrows lowering in an attempt to look serious. "You just never see it."

Neither queens replied. Truth was, they _had _seen Tugger in a depressed and mentally tortured state. Quite a few times. When his mother, Grizabella, had abandoned him and Macavity for a life of glamour and fame, he had turned extremely quiet, mysterious and vague for a little while, never talking to anybody. And then there was the time bruises had begun appearing on his face, not long after his mother had left. It was a mystery where they came from, and they brought out the darker, moody Tugger no one liked to see. All he would do was cling on to his older brother, Macavity, following him everywhere and copying everything he did.

And then Macavity left. That had provoked the longest depression of Tugger, beginning with plenty of tears and shouting. The maine coon had loved his brother, but the red fiend had left him in his time of need, calling Tugger 'stupid' and 'just like Grizabella'.

"Tugger, do you honestly not know why these henchcats are hunting you?" Bombularina sighed. Tugger flinched slightly. He was an expert liar, but somehow queens always saw past him.

"Um … I possibly do not absolutely know, but it's also possible I do not don't know why they're after me," he attempted, rather pathetically. "It depends on what they want, really-"

"Alright, so they're after you," Cassandra confirmed. "Why?"

"I…I don't know," Tugger said, honestly. "Maybe Macavity's brewing a potion and he needs one of my ear hairs. I could just see him stood over a large cauldron, cackling away-"

"This is serious, Tugs. Aren't you scared? I would be kacking myself if I were you," Bombularina half growled.

"What's there to be scared of? A cat that looks like a toilet-brush? I don't think so, love."

"It's what that toilet brush can do that's the problem," the scarlet queen murmured lowly. Macavity was pure evil – there was no doubt about it. He had committed such horrendous crimes in his life they weren't imaginable. His past was gory, dark and as mysterious as the cat himself.

The Jellicles had too many bad experiences with the Napoleon of Crime. It was hard to think that he was once one of them, living, eating and playing as a young kitten with his brothers, learning to dance and sing. It was a tragedy that something in his mind changed and forced him to walk away from his family, causing such grief and despair no one had spoken for days.

And then the killings began. Almost every cat in the tribe had at least one relative, distant or close, killed by the red fiend. Bombularina's great uncle was brutally murdered by his then henchcats. It hadn't been that much of a blow since she hadn't really known the old tom, but still … It was much worse when her sister, Demeter, revealed she had had a very close relationship with Macavity and that he had brutally abused her when she had done something he didn't like her doing. Like, for example, speaking.

Bombularina could never forgive Macavity for what he had done to her sister and friends, especially Tugger. It would ravage her if anything happened to the tom she knew best.

Tugger watched her emotions changing as she stared at her paws. Clearly she was remembering everything Macavity had done. There was an uncomfortable silence as he tried to think of something to say that would comfort her.

"Bombularina, my little walnut," he nuzzled her neck gently, even as they walked. Cassandra watched with an odd expression on her sleek face.

"Nothing's going to happen. Macavity will forget his latest evil epiphany and leave us alone, at least for a little while. I'll be fine."

Bombularina growled to herself.

"And if he doesn't forget? From all the times you've been beaten up by the henches, I'd say he's pretty into catching you. Bast, if he caught you I would just die. So would Munkustrap, Old D, the kittens … the Jellicles would fall apart."

"I don't think anything that drastic would happen," Tugger said, raising an eyebrow. If he was horrifically killed then the Jellicles wouldn't just drift away from each other. He wasn't that important.

The maine coon suddenly felt Cassandra close the gap between them, so tightly that all three cats had to walk awkwardly to travel across the pavement safely. Her nose pressed to his shoulder.

"It would. You have surprisingly low self esteem for such a flirt," she said, speaking into his mane.

"I don't have low self esteem, it's just that everyone else is better than me," the tom muttered, so lowly the queens weren't sure they had heard him correctly.

Eventually, they reached Tugger's large house. His humans were obviously well off – the house was extravagant and finely built. A large garden surrounded it completely and was full of nice hidey holes and bushes any cat could spend his days in. The queens weren't sure why he didn't spend all of his time here instead of the slightly smelly junkyard.

Bombularina leapt up onto the white fence and gazed at a large sign that had been stuck clumsily into the soil.

"Tugger? What's this sign?" she asked. He stopped shoving at the cat-flap and looked at the square piece of plastic.

"The humans are moving. That's to show other humans they can have the house as long as it's paid for in return. Hey, why not just give it to some poor old sod for free? Humans make life really hard for themselves."

"You're moving?" the queens said together, alarmed. Tugger laughed.

"I'm not going with them. I'm staying here with you lot. Geez, I'm not that much of a suck up I actually leave London for some new town. Life would be unbearable if I couldn't make fun of Munkustrap every passing second." He gave up on the cat-flap. They had locked it. Again. The love they held for him was astounding.

"But you'll be a stray," Cassandra pointed out. She tried to look unconcerned by trying the cat-flap out herself.

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter. Lots of Jellicles are strays. I know how to look after myself. I'm just gonna check around the back of the house to see if they've left a window open." Tugger immediately strutted around the corner of the white building. The two queens followed urgently.

"So you're giving up this-" Bombularina gestured at the huge house, shady garden and bushes, "-to stay in noisy old London? Surely a small, quiet town would be better than this place. Less traffic to squish you."

"Aww, come on, what kind of cat do you think I am? I'd never leave you lot. Pah, and you said the Jellicles would fall apart if I wasn't here," Tugger pouted, though his eyes remained serious.

"We would, if you were hurt. Or worse. But if we knew you were safe in a little town somewhere-"

"Don't even go there, babe. I'm staying and that's final. And, hey, for all we know, they could be moving to New York. Could you see me waltzing around, pretending to be a yank, eh? They'd shoot me on the spot."

The queens smiled. They watched the large tom leap onto a snazzy looking conservatory and disappear for a moment over the other side. A triumphant yowl told them the humans had, rather stupidly, left a window open.

"I'll see you babes in a minute!" he shouted, sliding gracefully through the small gap. The two queens made themselves comfortable underneath a neatly trimmed rose bush to patiently wait for him. Tugger was sure they could have a nice girly chat about whisker curlers or something equally weird.

The maine coon raced through the large house down to the kitchen. It was big, white, and sparkly, just crying out to be wrecked, but he ignored the pulsing urge to destroy something. Instead, he nudged open the 'bits n' bobs' cupboard and nosed about, trying to find something worthy of a feline birthday party. Eventually he came across some long, colourful stringy things (streamers?) and old tins of tuna in brine. His collection was slightly pathetic but better than nothing.

Just as he was about to leave with his prizes, he spotted something large and delicious smelling on one of the pristine units. It was covered in thin tissue paper that only intensified his curiosity. Tugger liked packages. Especially when they weren't his.

Should he or shouldn't he? That was the question.

Abandoning the streamers and tuna on the floor, he leapt quickly onto the unit and peeled the tissue paper away with his teeth. Revealed to him was a huge, delicious looking cake. It was possibly the hugest and most delicious he had ever seen.

"Everlasting Cat," he muttered to himself. The Rum Tum Tugger loved cake. It was on his list for his favourite things. The humans never let him eat any (when they were around), so this was a huge treat just ready for the taking.

Although, this _could _have been the last time he was ever in this house. Surely, his last great act towards the humans would be to _not _steal their cake? But on the other hand, if he was doomed to die a horrible death, the humans would want him to be happy in his last moments and allow him to revel in that delicious, creamy, thick, spongy … sweet … fortifying …

"Sorry, kid," Tugger grinned, aiming his words towards the momentarily inexistent human kitten. No doubt the cake was for her. _Tough, _he mused. It was his now.

The tom dug through the nearest drawer and found a spare carrier bag and knife. As gracefully as he could manage with his claws, he cut lots of slices out of the cake as he had seen the humans do before. The tissue paper was used to wrap them up, and they went into the bag along with the tuna and streamers.

He hoped Asparagus was grateful for all his hard work. Just cutting the cake had made him sweat like a pig.

As carefully as he could, Tugger slung the bag over his back, keeping the handles in his mouth so the cake wouldn't become a white splodge across the floor. He couldn't help but have one last glance at the kitchen. He had only a few memories here, for most of his life he was out on the streets, but still … this was his home.

It suddenly struck him what he was leaving behind. A huge house full of luxuriant food and toys, humans who brushed and stroked him when he was feeling slightly down, a place he could call his own. What would happen to him when they were gone? Would he turn wild and messy? Would he become hardy and tougher than he already was?

There were even less people to care about his existence, now.

A slight sadness filled the large cat as he made his way through the house and back out of the foolishly open window. No more trashings, no more shrieking humans … but if it meant he could stay in London with his fellow Jellicles, then so be it. He would rather be with his friends than those oversized apes.

He coolly slid down the roof and to the ground, where Bombularina and Cassandra came to greet him.

"What did you get?" Bombularina asked, sniffing at the bag excitedly. "Tuna ... erm, what's this?" she added, prodding a squidgy white lump.

"'Tis cake, my dear Bomba. What's a party without cake?"

"Not a party at all," the red queen giggled. "It smells great. I hope you're willing to share."

"He'd better be," Cassandra said threateningly, though she smiled warmly as she gazed at him.

"Maybe with you two. How could I not hand out any cake to my two gorgeous bodyguards?" Tugger said smugly, sticking out his impressive chest. His surliness was ruined, however, when the plastic bag in his mouth caused him to choke and spit out the handles in panic.

"You idiot," Bombularina said affectionately, picking up the bag in her own mouth. He smiled at her sheepishly.

"We'd better get going – the sun's setting. We'll run into danger if we leave it too late to leave. "Cassandra warned. Tugger nodded.

"Yeah. Munkustrap's probably having a hissy fit right now. Wouldn't want him to blow a blood vessel or something."

The trio turned to leave. Tugger had already said his farewells to the house, so he didn't turn back for one last look. He knew he had to keep his eyes on the future.

Looking at the backsides of the two walking queens seemed to help.

"Man, I love birthday parties. Doesn't it just pump your nads?" Bombularina laughed. Tugger nearly choked again.

"Erm, Bomba … do you even know what that means?" he asked incredulously.

"To get excited, doesn't it?"

"Uh, yeah, just not in the way you're thinking."

Cassandra laughed loudly as Bombularina's embarrassment showed through her white face fur. Tugger laughed too, a little louder than normal. These were the creatures he needed – he needed to forget those damn humans. He was very close friends with a few of the Jellicles, and friendly with the others. Life wasn't going to be that bad from now on. Bombularina and Cassandra were included amongst his 'best friends' list, along with Quaxo, Munkustrap, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer.

Bombularina and Cassandra had both been romantic interests at some point. Well, Bombularina still was, but it was more a joking relationship, not a serious one. Cassandra had been a partner of his for quite a while, a couple of years ago. Although - and this wasn't his bigheadedness talking - he knew she was still attracted to him, even though Alonzo had shown an obvious interest in her. But he didn't mind the tension that sometimes came up between them both. It was bound to happen with any queen that laid eyes on him.

"Yeah, well, your nads are going to get pumped pretty soon, then," Bombularina smirked.

Tugger eyed her in a seductive manner.

"May I ask why?"

"I'm due to be in heat, soon."

"Oh, bugger."

Tugger couldn't decide whether he loved it or hated it when queens were in heat. For one thing, they seemed more attracted to him then usual and constantly badgered him for the very thing they craved, but on the bad side; sometimes they got very … heated, and exhausted him to the point he often thought he was infertile. It was a blessing and a curse. It was a miracle he hadn't got anyone pregnant. At least he hoped he hadn't.

"I think most queens are due soon," Cassandra put in, rather unhelpfully. "There's an air of hormonal changes around. I can sense it."

"That's great. Just great," Tugger said mildly. "Y'know, sometimes I think you queens fake heat just to get jiggy with me-"

Bombularina clipped him over the head with a paw, interrupting him. At first he thought she had done it out of mocked anger, but then he saw the slightly bewildered expression on her face. He looked at Cassandra. The sleek queen also appeared to have just seen a ghost of some sort. What was going on? Had he offended them somehow?

And then he smelt it. His senses suddenly sent a knowing tingle shooting through his stomach. A mixture of annoyance and anger made him bristle in distaste as he prepared for the inevitable.

That wet, meaty scent was indistinguishable. Every cat in existence knew that scent.

Pollicles.

The cats stopped walking as four of the dreaded beasts rounded a corner not too far away. They were alone. No humans to stop them snapping up poor, undefended felines.

"Keep calm," Tugger said quietly, seeing Bombularina begin to panic. Her breathing quickened. She'd had bad experiences with pollicles.

"I-I can't. Look at the size of them all. We have to run!" she gasped, taking blind steps backwards.

"They've already seen us," Cassandra said. Indeed, she was right. The huge dogs had spotted them already and were smiling to themselves, licking their black lips in the most threatening manner. Tugger immediately straightened up and stepped in front of the queens. He bared his teeth and hissed, trying to show the dogs who was boss. But they just laughed.

"Look at 'im, trying to protect 'is whores. 'Ow sweet," one of them barked. He was clearly the leader of the small pack of strays; a large Alsatian with broad shoulders and a muscled neck. The other dogs laughed like a bunch of hyenas, as if the leader had just said something impertinently funny.

"We don't want trouble. We're just passing through," Cassandra said boldy. The pollicles looked at each other and laughed even further.

"And wut are ya gonna do if we want trouble, eh, missus?" the Alsatian barked. "Is this pansy gonna do us in?" He nodded at Tugger. Said cat hissed again and allowed the fur on his back raise slightly. He could sense danger, now. It was thick in the air, like fog. And, to his alarm, all he could see was an angry red. He wanted to beat the crap out of those dogs, and they hadn't even done anything yet. Well, they had called his friends whores. That was a good enough excuse to scratch their eyes out.

"I've blinded a dog before, mutt, I can do it again," Tugger said lowly. This wasn't the complete truth – he had only temporarily blinded the dog by clawing at its face continuously, but it counted.

"You're a tough guy, eh? Lemme see how tough you are if I chew up one of ya whores!" the Alsatian growled.

"You ain't gonna be able too because you'll have to get through me first, biffa." He turned to look at Cassandra and the nearly hyperventilating Bombularina. "Go. Run. I'll distract them for a while," he said.

"Tugger, no! You'll get ripped apart!" Cassandra protested. "Now's not the time to act the hero."

"I'm not acting the hero, Cassie. Just get Bomba back to the junkyard. I'll be following you soon, I promise." He half begged. The queen stared deeply into his eyes for a moment.

"But … Tugger, please …" she whimpered, supporting a shivering Bombularina.

"I swear I'll be back at the junkyard soon. I need you to tell Munkustrap I'll be a bit late. I'll be okay."

Cassandra nodded, then reluctantly began dragging Bombularina away from the scene towards the corner the pollicles had come from. A few of the more scraggly of dogs made to follow them.

"Are you as low as that to pick on queens?" Tugger asked, trying to sound as patronising as possible. It worked; the dogs turned to face him again, glaring. Tugger breathed a quick sigh of relief when he saw the queens turn the corner, but he couldn't help but feel a bit more afraid now that he was on his own. Would he be able to keep his promise to Cassandra? That morbid feeling of death creeped up into his chest. The thought that it was possible he would die almost numbed him completely, though the anger stayed.

"I recognise your scent, kit," the big Alsatian growled. "Have I seen you before?"

"If we've met, my mind has obviously locked away that trauma," Tugger replied lightly. He was desperate to get away and make sure the queens got back to the junkyard safely.

"No, I've met a cat with a scent similar to yours. He wuz bigger than you. A nasty red colour. You wouldn't happen to know 'im, would ya?"

"My brother?" Tugger burst out without thinking. Uh oh. It was like that nasty moment when stubbing a toe; you always had a chance to swear loudly before the pain came. But why was Macavity getting mixed up with stupid pollicles? Was he using them as goons now? Could he get any lower at all?

"Your brother!" the Alsatian half roared. "You're just cruisin' for a bruisin', you is! That damn cat near mutilated me best mate! You're gonna pay for what 'e did. Mutilation for mutilation."

Tugger gulped. He couldn't risk fighting these dogs. They were all three times his size and quadrupled in number.

"You have to understand that me and him don't get along at all," Tugger said, raising his paws in a slight gesture of surrender. "Hey, he would love it if you ripped me to shreds, honestly. It would be Christmas come early. You may as well just let me run along home-"

"I dun' care if e' 'ates ya, you're still gettin' a beatin'. It'll make me feel be'er since you smell loike 'im. You sort of look loike 'im 'n all. C'mon, boys," the dog gestured at his friends, "it's playtime."

Tugger's final instinct kicked in. There was only one solution when a pack of huge, hungry dogs were ganging up on you, and you were too small to do any serious damage.

Run.

The maine coon darted underneath the Alsatian's legs and down the road before they realised what had even happened. That was where he had the advantage: speed. The dogs were big, but bumbling and slow, whereas he was skinny and nimble. It didn't stop the pollicles from giving up, though. That was the annoying thing about dogs; however doomed the situation, they were still loyal to their cause. Like eating scared maine coons.

"Ahftah 'im!" the leader yelped, beginning a slow run after the cat. The other dogs were smaller yet had longer legs, so they were faster. Their paws pounded on the ground as they built up their speed.

It didn't help they were unfamiliar with this area of town. It was middle class and posh – something they weren't used to. They only knew the run down streets of the downtown, where the walls were covered in graffiti, where rubbish bins were carelessly knocked over and where the toughest of dogs and cats scrounged about. They were only in this posh area to mess up a few gardens. And lo and behold, they got a new chewtoy!

Tugger was finding it more and more difficult to run. The wound on his paw was surprisingly painful and slowed him considerably, allowing the dogs to get closer and closer. He knew if he didn't think of something soon he would be chow for the dribbling, excited dogs, and that wasn't exactly the most dignified way to die. There was only one thing for it. Death, or possible death. He picked possible death.

The maine coon ran down an a small alley and found himself on another road. Luckily, it started raining. The water would wash away his scent if he managed to get out of the dogs' view for a second. However, he still knew the impossibilty of the situation and thought drastically fast to figure out how to escape the huge carnivores. Hell, he would do anything so long as he wasn't painfully yanked to bits. Anything.

And then, his salvation turned the nearest corner at high speed. He sprinted towards it, not even thinking of the consequences if his plan failed.

"E's gettin' away!" One of the smaller dogs yelped as they skidded down the alley. "Damn cat!" The dogs loped ungracefully to the new road and howled in shock as their foe did the stupidest thing they had ever seen.

He jumped in front of a car.

There was a blaring horn, an ear splitting screech, and then a muffled 'thump' that could only mean one thing.

"God dammit!" a human yelled. A male stomped out of the driver's seat of the car and around to the bumper.

"Is it dead?" a female called from inside.

"I think so. I didn't squash it but it must have hit its head or something," the male replied, now sounding appalled by what he had done. "The stupid thing just ran right into the car."

The female climbed out and joined her mate. She took hold of the limp cat's paws and dragged it to the side of the road so it wouldn't be splattered by any other cars.

"Good idea. Man, my heart's jumpin' all over the place!" the male complained, climbing back into the driver's seat. His mate followed, and the car drove off again down the posh road towards the main city.

The dogs looked at each other dumbly.

"Looks loike we chased 'im to 'is death," the Alsatian said, chuckling wheezily. The pollicles lightened up immediately and laughed along with him, walking back up the alley towards the nice gardens. "I 'ope 'is whores find 'im soon."

A lugubrious silence laid to rest upon the street. The lifeless cat near the curb remained unmoving and still.

But his eyes opened and he smiled mischievously.

Those stupid pollicles. Did they really think _the _Rum Tum Tugger was going to finish himself off by leaping in front of a car? It was true he _had _leapt in front of it, but he had run in the same direction as the car for a few seconds, meaning the impact was nowhere near as dangerous. He was a genius.

Now all he had to do was get back to the junkyard. His head, neck and shoulders were hurting terribly. He could feel blood gathering just above his ear – clearly the impact was harder than he expected. But still, he was alive, wasn't he? A few pulled muscles weren't going to do him in.

Tugger struggled to his feet and began the first wobbling steps towards home. The junkyard suddenly seemed extremely far away as the world around him spun slowly, making him feel like he was going to throw up. Bast, his head was really, really beginning to hurt now. Stupid humans. They should've looked where they were going. It was a miracle they weren't all crashing into each other and flying out of their windscreens to splatter onto some wall or road.

The maine coon's vision blurred and darkened as something hot and sticky dripped into his eyes. Maybe … maybe he had done more than he thought. He wasn't dying, was he? It sure felt like it. He sank to his knees, and then rolled onto his side. A rest wouldn't hurt. He just hoped he would be getting back up again.

AN: Just in case you're wondering what a 'biffa' is, it's London slang for a big, ugly man. Or dog in this case. Have a nice day/night. :3

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	3. Strange Prophecy

A big thanks to Dragonzair and My.Psuedonym.Was.Taken, my first reviewers. You both gave very helpful and intelligent reviews that made me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. Thanks again!! :3

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Cassandra nosed Bombularina gently, ushering her into the Junkyard gates. The red queen was still shivering slightly, a stunned yet panicked expression in her widened eyes. What had they done? Was Tugger even alive? What would Munkustrap do when he heard his brother was off brawling with huge pollicles?

"Cassie…" Bombularina whispered, turning her head to stare at the sleek queen. "…Tugger."

"He'll be alright, Bomba. I can sense it," Cassandra soothed, but it wasn't the honest truth. Though she had an admirably strong 'sixth sense', much stronger than many other Jellicles, she couldn't sense anything to do with Tugger. She wished she were as strong as Coricopat and Tantomile, who could probably walk on water if they felt the urge. But for some reason, their power only worked when they were together. Maybe if she found herself a mate and stopped mooning over the one tom she couldn't have … then maybe she'd be more powerful.

Cassandra shook her head and smiled, trying to lighten the atmosphere. The two queens walked slowly towards the red banger where Munkustrap and Demeter lived. She sincerely hoped the Jellicle Guardian was in a good enough mood to pass the whole thing off, but her brain kept telling her that Tugger needed help.

"Um, Munkustrap?" Cassandra called, sitting beneath an open window of the car. There was a low shuffling from inside, a groan, and then the silver tabby's head appeared though the wide gap.

"Cassie? Where's Tug – T – Tu –" Munkustrap yawned, interrupting his own sentence. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and clumsily jumped off of the car to join the queens.

Cassandra watched with flattened ears as Munkustrap took in Bombularina's shaken appearance. His eyes widened in alarm.

"Cassandra? What's happened?" he said urgently, looking around. The queen lowered her head in something close to shame. If anything had happened to Tugger … Munkustrap's grief would always be on her conscience. Everyone's grief would. It would be all her fault.

"We were just coming out of Tugger's humans' house," she explained quietly, "and these pollicles turned up."

Munkustrap breathed out a quick sigh of relief. So he hadn't been kidnapped by any henches. But still … pollicles.

"Tugger convinced them to let us go, but the leader of the pack was harbouring all this anger, and he seemed desperate to release it somehow. The rest of the dogs were pretty much ready to do anything he did," Cassandra continued. "But don't worry too much, Munkustrap," she said quickly as she saw the tabby's eyes widen in alarm. "He's not stupid. He wouldn't have stayed to fight all those pollicles on his own."

"You're right," came another voice, and the small form of Demeter joined them from the window. The gold and black queen looked calm as always, despite the danger her brother-in-law was in. "Any smart cat would have run away. He's _fine, _Munkustrap. I assure you that it won't be long till he's swaggering through those gates, ready to tell everyone what a terrible ordeal he's been through."

"Yeah, you're right," Munkustrap breathed, but doubt still shone in his dark eyes. Tugger was smart, but he had a nasty temper. If one of those dogs said something to get him angry … The silver tabby's breath came in quick, short bursts. He knew he was close to having a panic attack. If he lost his brother, he wouldn't be able to bear it.

The two had always been close, even if the silver tabby did treat his brother a bit formally sometimes. They were complete opposites: Munkustrap was quiet, polite and a good leader, whilst Tugger was attention-loving, loud and rebellious, yet they both loved each other. They were both what the other needed; a little bit of sunshine and a little bit of darkness. Tugger was the fun while Munkustrap was the listener. And yet, the maine coon had sometimes bought out such _ugly _emotions in Munkustrap. Jealousy, for he knew that Tugger had loved Macavity more than him, yet when the Hidden Paw had abandoned his family, he couldn't feel happy. He had felt a terrible hatred for his red, conniving half brother for bringing such pain, even if he did have that black and gold ball of fluff all to himself. And then there was the fear, fear that Macavity would come and take Tugger back, fear that he would lose his closest friend forever, fear that he would be left all alone, a mindless robot leading the Jellicles into the broken abyss of his own world, the darkness without its sunshine…

They had to find him. Munkustrap didn't care if Tugger would scorn his over protectiveness, he didn't care if he would jump out from behind a building shouting 'surprise!' and then double up in laughter at his brother's expression. He just wanted him safe in his eyesight.

Cassandra received a nod from the Jellicle Guardian.

"Well done, Cassie, for keeping calm. I'm very grateful."

"Don't compliment me, Munkustrap," Cassandra replied lowly, but not impolitely. She still had that gut wrenching fear that they would find Tugger dead. The silver tabby glanced at her, concerned, but said nothing more. He turned to Demeter.

"I'm sorry, Dems. I just have to look for him."

"It's all right. I'll help you," the small queen smiled, a deep compassion for her mate in her golden eyes. Munkustrap returned the look and rubbed his head on her dark shoulder. "I know how important he is to you. We'll begin at his humans' house and sniff out his scent. We're either going to find him playing poker with some dodgy characters or attempting to sell one of his legs for catnip."

Munkustrap smiled, his tight chest loosening slightly. He had to admire Demeter's memory – it had been years since they had found Tugger playing Poker with the Mafia's cats, who had been visiting London for a short while. But then again, he admired everything about Demeter. If Tugger was his sunlight, then Demeter was surely the laws that kept his world running. (She was conveniently named after the Greek bringer of seasons.) If he hadn't met her he would be sat in his den staring blankly at the nearest piece of furniture, possibly muttering to himself incoherently. She was the life in his little world; the plants, the animals. Munkustrap only wished his sunlight and his life could get along like a proper family.

It was well known Demeter didn't exactly hold a soft spot for Tugger. Only the Everlasting Cat knew why.

Cassandra watched the loving stares the two cats shared with interest. She had always been jealous of Demeter; the queen was petite and pretty, yet had a somewhat dark side to her. She was a big interest in the world of toms, but she remained faithful and true to her only love, Munkustrap. Cassandra wished that one day, a tom would find her and love her for who she was. She wished for a knight in shining armour that would stand tall and protect her. But it seemed she wouldn't be meeting anyone soon. Not when she was desperately jealous of Bombularina and her relationship with Tugger.

Okay, screw all that sentimental 'happily ever after' rubbish. She wanted Tugger. _Badly._

"Cassie," Munkustrap said, interrupting her thoughts. "Can you sense at all if he's okay? It might help judge as to how far he's gotten."

"I can't seem to sense him at all," the sleek queen sighed. "Perhaps the weather is blocking my vision. There is rain heading towards us."

"Alright. Well maybe Coricopat and Tantomile could…?"

"Yes, Munkustrap?"

The four cats outside the car jumped as two perfectly synchronised voices rang out behind them. As was to be expected, the psychic twins appeared on the bonnet of the car, looking eerie and mysterious as the gathering clouds made their pale faces glow in the dull darkness.

The twins were extremely useful to the Jellicles. The two could see the past and sometimes predict future events that would cause a large impact on the tribe. However, their true talent was in the present, and they were able to sense other cats' thoughts, emotions or their presence. Though very … creepy in a way, it always gave the Jellicles the element of surprise if rival tribes were planning something sinister, or if Macavity was up to his usual plotting self. Little was known about how the twins' minds worked, but everyone knew that they could communicate mentally when they were close to each other. Though where they had come from was always a mystery.

"Oh, ah," Munkustrap stuttered in surprise, scratching an ear. The twin pair smiled.

"We saw that you would need us precisely at this time," Coricopat said.

"So what is it we can help you with? I sense a disturbance about you all," his sister continued.

"Well, Tugger is missing. The last time anyone was with him, he was about to get in a fight with pollicles. Can you sense where he is? We know that he was near his house, uptown."

"Yes," the twins said together, their eyes drifting as they began to see things no one else could see. "A road … houses …" Coricopat even began rubbing his temples slowly, as if that would tune his vision into the missing cat. "A car. Yes. A car going over the speed limit. Tugger is running from something."

"Pollicles," Tantomile confirmed. "He was running from pollicles exactly twenty three minutes ago."

"But the car. He's running right towards it," Coricopat muttered. "What's he doing…? Surely he's not going to…?"

Munkustrap's belly quivered as the male twin gasped loudly, bringing himself and his sister out of their vision. He saw their eyes darken and drift back to reality, then settle on the cats below them with a terrible, knowing sadness. What had they seen? What was that to do with a car? Surely Tugger hadn't been …

"We're sorry, Munkustrap, Cassandra, Bombularina and Demeter," the twins said in unison, their very beings appearing haunted. "But Tugger was in an accident precisely twenty eight minutes ago. It involved one of the travelling cars humans are so fond of. The owners of the car confirmed his death."

"W-what?" Munkustrap murmured, his whole body going numb from shock. "He's been run over? The pollicles chased him to a main road?"

"No, Munkustrap," the twins said sadly. "He jumped in front of it on purpose."

* * *

_You would say anything_

_You would try anything_

_To escape your meaningless_

_And your insignificance_

_You're uncontrollable_

_And we are unlovable_

_And I don't want you to think that I care_

_I never would, I never could again_

_Why can't you just love her?_

_Why be such a monster?_

_You burn me from a distance_

_Your brain needs some assistance_

_But I'll still take all the blame_

'_Cause you and me are both one and the same_

_And it's driving me mad_

_And it's driving me mad_

_I'll take back all the things that I said_

_I didn't realise I was talking to the living dead_

_And I don't want you to think that I care_

_I never would, I never could again_

_You would say anything_

_You would try anything_

_To escape your meaningless_

_And your insignificance_

The steady beat of the drums and other human instruments was numbed down by the rain, making the torturing voice become the loudest part of the song, the words flying through Tugger's skull to bring near forgotten memories and images to his mind. Where was that strange song coming from? Did he die and go to Hell, where a demon was reminding him of his hatred and anger? Was this his torture, listening to human songs about pain and other dark emotions? It wasn't fair; he had never done anything evil in his life. They should reserve hell for cats that belonged there.

The song got louder and then quieter until it gradually faded away, creating a strange Doppler Effect, just like a passing car. There was something hard beneath his body, sharp little pieces of grit digging into his flesh. The nerves in his skin seemed to awaken slowly, letting him feel the chilly air, the light wind, and … quite suddenly, the explosive agony in his head.

Everlasting Cat, what had happened to cause such pain? Had the pollicles ripped his head off?

No. Why was he such an idiot? Obviously he wouldn't be functioning without a head. At least he knew he was alive.

Pollicles … pollicles …

The memories came slowly, revealing themselves like one of those stupid 'deeveedee' things the humans frequently watched on their television. The dogs were chasing him, he had made a snap but idiotic decision, then a big, dark object came hurtling towards him at high speed … and then there was only darkness. He grew dozily confused. Who the hell in their right mind would jump in front of a car whether they were being chased by pollicles or not? Well, him, of course. But even he wasn't stupid enough to willingly be squished into something red, furry and very unrecognisable, was he? Was that what had happened to him?

The pattering rain increased in strength as Tugger began to question his own sanity.

"No, you idiot. If you were squashed you'd know about it," he reassured himself. Well, he could speak, that was for sure. Taking that as a good sign, the cat tried opening his eyes as slowly as possible. Darkness. A weird, sticky darkness. Oh Bast, he wasn't blind, was he? How strange that he should threaten to blind a dog then end up blinded himself. By a car. A big, fast car that had no protruding points at the front to his knowledge. It wasn't possible, was it? Okay, but he had hit his head rather hard judging by the aching throb just above his ear. Maybe he had crunched his skull to pieces and blinded himself in the process.

"No, you freakin' idiot!" Tugger hissed again. "It's blood. Just blood." The large tom immediately licked his free paw and washed the dried blood out of his eyeballs. And, to his relief, glorious vision came to him in the form of a grey road and a row of posh houses. It was his estate! So he wasn't lying in the middle of nowhere. That was a bonus.

Now to move. Tugger shuffled his large shoulders to try and roll onto his chest, but his neck momentarily stopped him by sending painful ripples down his ribs and to his stomach. He cussed loudly and profusely, taking advantage of the fact there was nobody there to tell him off. After a few seconds he managed to get on his front and begin to support himself with his shaky legs. Luckily, his limbs hadn't been damaged at all, so as long as he could keep from moving his head he'd be able to walk without sinking into the land of Hypnos again. His mind was much clearer now, the fogginess drearily drifting out of his system, at least for a little while.

Alright, so he was standing. Now where to walk? He didn't necessarily want to go back up the alley to his road just in case his friends the pollicles were still hanging about, but he didn't really want to get back to the Junkyard the long way round, either. How stupid that a difference of a few meters would add another ten minutes to his travelling time. Sometimes he really despised the human way of thinking and building roads.

And then he remembered that he was being hunted by Macavity and possibly several hundred of his henchcats. That just put the cherry on top of the cake.

Cake … Why did that ring a blearing alarm bell? Cake … party … Asparagus … Munkustrap. _Munkustrap!_

Great Cat! He didn't want to know how long he had been lying uselessly on the side of the road while his brother was probably blowing a gasket. And his father! What was he going to say when he saw his son had broken his promise in about twenty minutes? Tugger had a sudden image of a grey, bearded abominable snowman chasing him round and round a pile of junk as Munkustrap watched, punching his paw into the other in a rather threatening gesture. They were going to kill him once he got back, no doubt about it. Oh, and Asparagus would probably castrate him for missing his dumb party. Life was good.

Tugger wobbled on down the road, still panicking on what his family would say once he got home. He felt like a kit that had stayed out way past his bedtime. Maybe they would slap his wrist and ground him for a month or two.

He really must be stupid. Here he was, devastatingly injured – probably beyond repair – and soaked to the skin, and now he was worrying about being told off. Maybe they would wait for him to get comfortable before grouching at him unbearably. He just wanted to sleep.

What the heck was he thinking? No way was he going to let those cats shout at him for protecting himself. He could jump in front of huge cars if he wanted too, no matter what they said. He was _the _Rum Tum Tugger, king of the streets, the ladies' cat, beta male (well, that was Alonzo's job, but it wasn't ever offered to Tugger anyway). He wasn't going to be _grounded _… was he?

"No. Shut up, brain," Tugger growled, entering a new street. The sound of his voice reassured him. He didn't care if he looked like a nutcase to passing cats. "Deut's not going to be so pissed off he's going to ground me like I'm some sort of muppet. I'm fully grown for Cat's sake. I'm not even a _virgin_!"

This earned him a bewildered glance from a twitchy looking magpie, which had been innocently hopping along down the road. Okay, so perhaps he was acting a bit weird. Maybe his recent knock on the head had something to do with it. Yeah, that was it. Head trauma could do absolutely anything, even make cats worry about being grounded and shout generally private topics to passing birds. And even if he _wasn't _grounded, he would still have to suffer some sort of guilt trip.

What was wrong with him? The Rum Tum Tugger shouldn't feel guilt. He was obnoxious, rude and moody as his father had so kindly pointed out, even if it did make him boring, which _Misto_ had kindly pointed out. Great Bast, maybe he should consider changing his ways a bit … just a little bit, so he wasn't so irritating. His mother had often said that making sacrifices for others often gave you a just reward. Well, pfft. Look where that got her! Strutting around Tottenham Court Road with nothing better to do than make sleazy comments to useless toms. She was pathetic.

Although, he often made sleazy comments. Did that make him pathetic? Was he, like Macavity had told him long ago, just like Grizabella? A worthless individual looking for a good time? But she had gotten her happy ending. She was sent to the Heaviside Layer. When the time came for it, would he ever be voted to visit the strange land above to be reborn? Probably not. It would be someone worthwhile, brave and useful, like Munkustrap or that dratted Alonzo. And then he'd die, alone and forgotten by everyone.

Tugger shook his head in an attempt to clear the morbid thoughts, though immediately regretted it. Another surge of pain shot down his upper body, reminding him of his stupidity.

So, he had to make some changes to his life. Well, not some, quite a lot actually. He hoped the Jellicles would be grateful when the newly reformed Tugger raced about, doing chores and helping old ladies across busy roads. Yeah, that would show them. He could be just like Munkustrap if he wanted. Tiring, noble, self sacrificing Munkustrap. So, to pass the time and to take his mind off the pain, Tugger made a list of changes to make.

His eyebrows lowered in thought. Number one: he should be nicer to Munkustrap and other high ranking cats. They couldn't help being tedious workaholics. Number two: he shouldn't break promises straight after making them, especially promises made to his father. Number three: he should never, ever cause an awkward situation with a queen who holds romantic interests for him. He should treat them with such respect and friendliness they would only see him as _that – _a friend. Number four: he should be a proper role model to the female kittens. Instead of being 'Tugsy Tuggs', 'I want your babies' and 'Great Cat, he's so gorgeous!' he would be just plain Tugger. More like an uncle than a sex icon. Number five: He should be a proper role model to _male _kittens, also just known as Tugger instead of 'That guy's so cool!' and 'Mr Awesome'. And finally, number five: he shouldn't tease Mr Mistoffelees for being short, and instead, help him with his magic tricks like a good friend would.

"There. That should make 'em all happy," Tugger growled, not very excited at the prospect of reforming. Even if it would make him happy if the kits finally looked up to him, it would make him happier to find a life supply of catnip and a room to himself. However, his happiness didn't matter as much as the others. _They deserve it more than I do,_ he thought moodily.

The maine coon carried on walking heavily, nearly falling sideways every now and again. He didn't really want to know how badly he looked, what with the blood and all that, so he didn't bother to check his reflection in the side of a car. Munkustrap always licked him clean after he got into a fight, so how was this time any different? It wasn't like he was going to be disowned.

"Why, hello there."

Tugger looked up wearily at the voice, distinctly hoping it wasn't one of Macavity's cronies. To his relief, the queen staring at him didn't look ferocious at all, but chubby and friendly. It made a change from huge, dribbling dogs, at least. But where the heck had she come from all of a sudden?

"Er, hello," he replied, twitching his ears forward. He would have flirted if he didn't feel like his head was going to drop off. The queen smiled widely.

"Would you like some help, m' dear? You seem to be struggling there all on your own," she asked kindly. Tugger eyed her suspiciously. She seemed friendly enough, what with her creamy fur and podgy belly, but he had learnt long ago not to trust easily. She could have been anyone.

"I'm alright, love. I'll be home in a few minutes," he lied, smiling weakly. He began walking again. He could feel her penetrating gaze on his back as he set off down the road, clearly taking in his battered appearance and bloodied face. It made him slightly nervous having a stranger staring at him like he was a brutally injured soldier returning from a war, but it made him feel good having someone he didn't even know worrying about him. Maybe she fancied him. Just about everyone did.

"You Jellicles always were a tough bunch," he heard her say quietly. Tugger stopped and looked at her absurdly. She hadn't said it in an admiring manner, but more as if it were a fault of theirs. "You all parade around like there's nothing bothering you, but there always is. Your tribe's a magnet for trouble."

"And your point is?" Tugger said, an eyebrow raised. She smiled again, so warm and caring it was like an alien's face.

"There's no point to make, dear. It's how you always were, how you are, and, if events turn out how they should, how you will be. I smell promise about you, lad, like something big is coming your way. It's evident on your very being. You're going through a tough time at the moment, no? Though it's only to be expected; the Jellicles are too close for their own good. It's bound to end in heartbreak," the mysterious queen murmured, still smiling despite her unnerving words. "There's royalty in your blood. I suppose you're a child of Old Deuteronomy? Yes, I thought so. I can see the darkness in you."

"Sorry, but what the _hell_ are you talking about?" Tugger spluttered, beginning to think the female was some sort of psycho. "Are you going to start ranting about how the sky's falling? Tell me now so I can get out of here before it starts. The rant, I mean."

The queen laughed delightfully, a pleasant, tinkling sound emanating from her mouth.

"Yes, you are definitely the son of Old Deuteronomy." The queen nodded to herself. "What I meant to say was, there's always been a strange darkness about the Jellicles, but now it is stronger than ever. It's flowing around you and your Junkyard. It's like a cloak of black, swirling, encasing…" her blue eyes drifted to a point about an inch above his shoulder, and then back to his face. "You're a fascinating specimen. My daughters would love you." She patted her belly contentedly, gesturing at the growing life inside of her.

Tugger was officially freaked out now.

"Well, okay then. Thanks for that," he said, slowly backing away. "I mean, I'd love to stay and chat about how evil my tribe is but I've got places to go." He pointed to his head drastically and smiled. The queen watched him, amusement growing on her pale face.

"You're such a sweetie. I could just eat you up," she sighed, batting her eyelashes.

"Oh. Well, let's not go there," Tugger replied nervously. He couldn't see the intentions behind the queen's eyes. For all he knew, she could have been some sort of cannibal that preyed on injured young toms like himself. Great. He needed that like he needed a hole in his head. In fact, he would prefer the hole, though it didn't help that he already had one.

"Such a shame …" the queen whined quietly, shaking her head. "You're all too close. The love is there, but reason is not. Grizabella made a mistake of giving birth to you. If she hadn't, then maybe the Jellicles would finally disappear."

Tugger blinked, then growled in outrage. How dare the queen tell him he shouldn't have been born. And what did she mean 'the Jellicles would finally disappear'? This was why he hated psychics. Was she Coricopat and Tantomile's long lost mother or something?

"Sorry if I appear _rude,_" he sneered, not sorry at all, "but what is it you have against my tribe? Is there some devastating curse we carry or something? If so, it's not very original."

"No, there's no curse upon you," the cream queen said gently. "You _are_ the curse. For a tribe with the power to communicate with the Everlasting Cat, surprising amounts of evil magic has come out of it. It was inevitable … but it must end soon. You must end it. You will make the final choice."

The maine coon hissed and turned away, preparing to walk back into sanity. What was it with those nutjobs? Was he just mentally attractive to those vision-seeing freaks? Did he have a fate so terrible and gory that they all delved into his mind like it was a playground? He had let the twins have their fun, but he wasn't letting this stranger into his mind. It was his only sanctuary, his private place. No one was invading it ever again.

"The two of you are one and the same," the queen continued, apparently oblivious to his distress. "One of you must fall. Just make sure you make the _right_ choice, dear, and as hard as it may be, the outcome will be wondrous. Think over your plans carefully."

Tugger was completely lost. Why was he even stood there listening to her? He had to get away before she gave him the date of his death and the exact time. That was just about the worst thing she could ever tell him.

"I will see you again, Rum Tum Tugger," she said gently as he began walking away. "And by that time you will have accepted your fate. My name is Nyxinne, and I'll always be here to help you, son of Deuteronomy."

The tom quickened his pace despite his shoulders twitching in pain. He just wanted to get out of that street, away from the psychopathic queen who practised the art of learning the sex of her unborn kittens and terrifying poor, defenceless maine coons. What was her deal? That talk about evil magic and crap – it was all bull. She was probably homeless and high on catnip. ...Though, to be honest, he knew she wasn't at all high on the plant. Hell, he had used it enough times and he had never tried to make prophecies and talk about how evil everyone was. It just wasn't normal.

"Tugger, when you reach the end of the road, turn left," he heard the queen shout.

Behind him, Nyxinne sat and watched the large tom pace away as fast as he could. She smiled when he stopped at the fork, apparently considering something, and then turned right with his tail high in the air.

"Yes. You are the son of Old Deuteronomy," she repeated mysteriously to herself. She hoped his head would heal quick enough so he could deal with tomorrow's events.

* * *

AN: The song used above is Escape by Muse. The meaning of it should become clear later on in the story, though feel free to interpret it. You'll probably get it right. ;)

Again, if there's anything you want to point out about the story or give some advice to make it better, feel free, since it's most appreciated. Much love.xx

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	4. Mr Mistoffelees

**Dragonzair: **I'm glad you asked! I'm a fan of both pairings, though I tend to lean more towards Bomba/Tugger, so that's where this will be heading. And I'm also a very big fan of the Mistoffelees/Tugger friendship. They're so funny together in the movie I just had to put a friendship story in here somewhere. That's why this chapter's from Misto's perspective. Thanks for reviewing! D

**My.Psuedonym.Was.Taken: **I don't really like lyrics put in stories either, but I listened to that song and thought the lyrics matched later on in the story. And don't worry, once Nyxinne makes another appearence the whole 'darkness' thing will be explained, along with the other apparently random stuff she talked about. Oh, and thanks for pointing out the sort of out of character Tugger. I've attempted to change that in this chapter. Thanks for the review! 3

**This chapter is VERY rushed, since I really wanted to get it out of the way and actually get the story going. I originally had written a very emotional scene between Munkustrap and Tugger but it ended up a huge pile of crap, so it was deleted. Please bear with this collection of poorly written paragraphs, since things will hopefully pick up in the next chapter. So remember this if you review. .**

* * *

Mistoffelees sniffed the nearest rubbish bin eagerly, his tail swirling in a snake-like motion. To any cat passing, it would have looked like the magician was searching out something tasty for dinner, but really he was looking for something more important. He knew Tugger wasn't dead. He had grown so accustomed to the large tom over the years that he could just _sense _that the twins' vision had been untrue one way or another. It was a feeling in the pit of his furry belly.

There was movement to his left. A tiny mouse darted from underneath a soaked newspaper, clearly trying to make its escape. With a quick flick of his paw, Mistoffelees grabbed the rodent by its tail and hung it in front of his face.

"Hello," he said kindly, but the mouse squealed in distress, writhing desperately.

"You wouldn't happen to have seen a big, furry cat around, have you?" said Misto. The creature in his paw stared at him with wide eyes, then immediately shook its whiskered head. "Oh, alright. There you go." He put the cat back on the concrete and watched it scamper away.

He was probably looking in the wrong place. Didn't Cassandra say, rather tearfully, that it had happened near Tugger's house? No wonder he wasn't getting any of his scent – he was about half a mile away from that estate. Maybe he just didn't want to find anything he didn't want to see. His powers were young and even his own senses could play up sometimes.

_If I was a huge cat running from pollicles, where would I go?_ He pondered. Small gaps were ruled out for obvious reasons. Maybe he had jumped on a roof, or he might have even run back to his humans! Maybe Tugger was busy scoffing smoked salmon whilst sat on a plushy pillow, while Misto was trudging around in the rain getting soaked to the skin.The magician sighed daintily; maybe he was out here on his own for no reason. Everyone else had the sense not to come.

_No,_ he thought, raising his head. _Tugger's my best friend. If he _was _run over then he can't just be left there on the side of a road. _But the feeling that he wasn't going to find a corpse was so strong he felt elated and light, even in the typical London weather. Tugger was fine. He just knew it. Well, he thought he did, at least. That surely meant something.

"Tugger!" he called through the near abandoned streets, his pace quickening. The posh estate his friend lived on was drawing closer. "Tugger!"

A gang of giggling queens appeared on the opposite side of the street. He grinned at them and slowed down slightly, wondering if they had seen him. They slowed too, watching him with huge eyes.

"Have you seen the Rum Tum Tugger anywhere?" he asked. They looked at him in something close to bewilderment.

"_You _know the Rum Tum Tugger?" one of them asked, clearly noting his short, rather un-tough appearance. A few of them giggled at the name and blushed underneath their fur.

"Yes. Have you seen him?"

"No, I haven't," the queen said irritably. "A month ago he was supposed to meet me near Clarence House. But did he turn up? Oh, no," she sighed. "Stupid, sexy brute."

The queens giggled again and waved at the short tom girlishly, before heading back up the street towards who knows where. Mistoffelees sighed again. At any other time he could just whisper his friend's name and have a crowd of queens running out from nowhere, ready to tell him where he was. But not today. Not when Tugger was possibly lying in a puddle somewhere, unmoving. It was something akin to Sod's Law.

He felt sorely tempted to just abandon this whole chase. No doubt Tugger would just laugh at Misto for being so worried, as usual. The maine coon had a thing about laughing at the poor cat.

Suddenly, the scent hit him. He immediately forgot giving up.

_Yes! _Mistoffelees sniffed the air, breathing in that familiar, husky smell. Excited, he followed it down a nearby alley and through a rather dull middle-class road lined with large houses. Yes, he had been here. A few new smells met his nose: pollicles, blood and burnt rubber. So there _had _been an accident, but clearly Tugger was alive somewhere. He had been right! Well, of course he had. He was Mr Mistoffelees, magician extraordinaire. The small tux tom stuck his chest out smugly, though he was slightly peeved that no other Jellicles were around to see his achievement. What would Munkustrap say when he saw his brother was alive?

The scent grew stronger as Mistoffelees travelled across the estate. Where the heck was that maine coon? It made him nervous thinking of how far Tugger could have travelled, especially since the cat was obviously injured. What if he was dead _now? _

Misto's ears flattened in fear, but they quickly pricked up again as he heard a familiar voice.

"Stupid fortune tellers … Think they can waste five minutes of my life …"

The small tom grinned ecstatically, enormous relief flowing into his chest as Tugger himself roughly shoved his way through a pile of discarded plastic bags at the entrance of another alley. He could hardly believe it. The cat had been chased by pollicles, hit by a car and all he had was a rather bloodied head.

"I knew it. _I knew it!_" Mistoffelees whooped triumphantly, prancing over to the shocked maine coon. It took a second for the large tom to realise who was dancing in a small circle for no apparent reason. He grinned widely. "I _knew _you were alive!"

"Oh! Mistoffelees, am I ever glad to see you!" Tugger grinned, sitting down. "I've literally had the worst day ever, and I need someone to carry me back to the Junkyard."

The magician stopped dancing abruptly to stare at Tugger in horror, but the larger tom just laughed and punched him hard in the shoulder.

"Just kidding. I think I can manage. I _think. _I'm in unbelievable pain right now," he said, his expression bored. "So tell me, how bad do I look? Be honest."

"Tugger, you look absolutely beautiful," Mistoffelees said, rolling his eyes. Before his friend could make a snide retort, he pulled him into a tight hug and squeezed as hard as he could. The small tux was impossibly pleased to see Tugger alive with only a large bump on his head. If anything had happened to him … Misto knew he wouldn't have been able to manage without his best friend guiding him and helping him with his magic.

"Ow. _Ow!_ Could you hug me tighter, please, Misto?" Tugger groaned. He tottered backwards as soon as he was released and fell back on his behind. "I feel like a slapped arse," he growled, rubbing his forehead. "Can we go anytime soon? I promise to continue our manly moment when I've had a rest. Though you might have to wait; I feel so tired I could kip for a few days, to be frank."

"I'll live." Mistoffelees nudged Tugger to his feet and allowed the bigger tom to lean on him slightly, but not too much, otherwise he'd probably end up more injured than Tugger. The two toms began the twenty minute journey back to the Junkyard.

"We could go back to my humans', y'know," Tugger said, looking wistfully in the direction of his own road. "We could both get food for a start. And a rest."

"Tugger, do you know how much trouble you've caused?" Mistoffelees answered. "Half the Junkyard thinks you're dead because Coricopat and Tantomile had a vision of you jumping in front of a car. I think it would be best if we went straight back."

"You're joking!" Tugger exclaimed, nearly deafening the tom next to him. "Cassie and Bomba are alright, though, aren't they? I swear, if I see those pollicles again I'm going to-"

"They're fine. Well, they're not now they think you've kicked it, but they're okay physically, thanks to you," Misto smiled. "You know, I think it was pretty brave what you did, facing the pollicles on your own."

He felt Tugger's chest rumble as the maine coon growled slightly.

"Mistoffelees, I was nearly wetting myself, I assure you." His eyes suddenly widened. "And that's another thing! Everlasting Cat!"

Misto nearly fell over as Tugger crossed his hind legs and staggered sideways.

"I've gotta pee like a friggin' racehorse. Stay right there!" Tugger ordered. He immediately hopped towards a heavily obscured garden and disappeared in a row of leafy bushes.

Mistoffelees blinked dumbly, and then sat on the curb to wait. He noticed that the roads were eerily empty today, void of any animals whatsoever. Obviously the humans, who seemed to really hate rain, wouldn't be coming out, but what about the cats? Usually when walking through any part of London you'd see quite a few cats – some of them Macavity's henches – but today there was no one. Maybe there was something happening they didn't know about, like a festival in the city. Misto loved festivals and other human celebrations. There was always this happy vibrancy in the air, and lots of discarded food. He positively couldn't wait for Bonfire Night, which was only a week or so away. The fireworks never bothered him since he could shoot lightning from his paws.

What was that smell? …Queen?

The conjuring cat turned his head towards the far end of the road. He could see someone sat at the fork, but when the rain was this drizzly it was hard to see long distances. She was a pale colour; that was all he could tell. Why was she just sat there looking in his direction? Was she even watching him?

Tugger blundered back through the bushes, groaning in relief.

"Alright, I'm spent. What're you looking at?" he asked. He appeared to sniff for a second, and then his face slacked in disbelief.

Mistoffelees's head turned back to the road, but the queen was gone.

"Uh, let's get outta here, Misto," Tugger said nervously, suddenly walking the opposite way to which they had been coming earlier. The magician watched him in confusion.

"The Junkyard would be the other way," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm going this way. Problem?"

"Did you know that queen?"

Tugger paused for a moment. "Yeah, and I ain't going near her. She's even weirder than you, Misto, and that's saying something," he muttered, though regretted it once he remembered the 'Tugger Reformation' list. "If I go near her again she's going to tell me my death-date."

"Oh." Mistoffelees said simply. "Well, she's gone now. I can't smell her anymore. You can turn around." He heard a small sigh, and then the large tom turned around and plodded in the other direction. There was irritation in Tugger's eyes but he thought nothing of it. He ran up to join him.

"So," the maine coon murmured, still glancing around himself. "Who thinks I'm dead? I hope you all had the sense not to tell Old Deuts. He'll batter me."

"Everyone who's living there at the moment thinks you're dead. Message hasn't gotten to those living far away, nor Skimbleshanks since he's on a train to Scotland." Mistoffelees shook his black and white head. "Munkustrap just went all blank and weird. Old Deuteronomy was the same. The queens were all crying and Etcetera fainted. It was awful."

"Bugger," Tugger said, stopping to rub his forehead again. "I'm done for. Dad made me promise not to do anything stupid. Why do bad things always happen to good cats, Misto?"

"Maybe because we think nothing bad will ever happen to us."

* * *

Mistoffelees rolled onto his back to observe the stars sparkling above him. The centre of the Junkyard was empty, despite the full moon that had appeared after the rain clouds had miraculously blown away. Everyone was crowding around Deuteronomy's den, either to listen to the leader's and Munkustrap's harsh words, or to await Tugger, who was at the receiving end of the two cats' anger. When they had arrived back at the Junkyard there had been this almost comical silence as everyone stared at the maine coon in disbelief. That had been followed by numerous screams, cheers and celebratory 'whoops' as Tugger was nearly crushed in hugs and kisses.

And then Munkustrap and Deuteronomy had come along, apparently not recognising the tom straightening out his hugged-to-death limbs. But then Tugger had stood up, looked at them, smiled sheepishly and uttered a simple 'Yo.'

Munkustrap had howled in both delight and anger. He ran to hug Tugger, but immediately changed his mind and had begun dragging him towards their father's den, surprisingly strong for a tom so much smaller than his brother. And that's where they were now, either having a family hug or excluding Tugger from all Jellicle benefits.

Mistoffelees snuggled deeper into the moth-eaten armchair he was lying on and closed his eyes. There was a rare calmness in the air that relaxed and numbed him slightly. He hoped Tugger would be getting his well deserved rest sometime soon.

* * *

AN: Sorry for the crappiness and shortness. As I said above, things will pick up.


	5. Falling Out

**Dragonzair: **Tugger's not even going to get a chance to go into reformation! And I'm glad you like Misto's characterization - it's how I perceive him in the movie, what with his eyebrow jiggling and stuff. Oh, and I didn't even know I had the anonymous reviews disabled. Thanks for that!!

**My.Psuedonym.Was.Taken: **As I said above, it's how I perceive Mistoffelees in the movie. I think it's good people like how I've presented him. And you're right, the last chapter was kind of a filler, since I'm one of those people that gets impatient with building up to the good bits. xD Thanks.

**Health-Critic: **I'm glad it makes you smile! I do try and make this vaguely amusing. And your humour is just fine - I found Artificial 9 Lives really funny, actually. I found your Tugger was excellent, and I'll be reviewing shortly! As for the OOC Tugger, there is a reason and it will be explained soon. I have a lot of explaining to do unfortunately. Thanks for your review!!

* * *

"Topper?"

"'Ere."

"Cleo?"

"Here."

"Vito?"

Silence.

"Vito? Is he here?"

"'Aven't seen 'im, sir."

"Dammit." Butch growled and threw the register – or rather, notebook – behind him in distaste. "I can't be arsed with this," he swore. "That damn tub of lard is probably filling his face at the back of McDonalds again. If he doesn't get here in five minutes I'm going to donate him to a bloody candle factory."

The large cat began pacing impatiently, his chipped ears swirling as he tried to search out the overweight tom. It was bad enough they had been stuck behind the stupid bus station for about four hours. He couldn't believe how humans could allow such disgusting matter to gather behind their buildings; there was all sorts of splodges and squashy, unidentifiable things covered in something green and sticky. It wasn't nice, even for a cat like him. All he wanted to do was find that damn brother of Macavity's and scratch him to ribbons. The thought made him shudder in delight.

"Sir," Cleo said, stretching randomly. "My niece agreed to help us catch Tugger. She's young, but she has an extraordinary sense of smell. Is it alright if she tags along?"

"Whatever," Butch said, flicking his tail in agitation. "How old is she?"

"Six months."

"What?" Topper interrupted. "Geez, thanks Cleo. That's all we need is a bloody kitten wailin' and screamin' every time she wants the bog. The only other cat we need is Vito … and all the other henches, of course." He peered at something under a yellowing claw. "Y'know, I think it's abou' time they were all 'ere. Where've they gotten to? Macavity'll be on his 'igh 'orse if we're late!"

"Shut up, Tops," Cleo said, bored. "They'll be here in a minute. Keep your knickers on."

Butch continued pacing the two metre gap between the station and a shredded mesh fence overlooking the warehouse district. He purposefully ignored his two fellow cats so he could remain in the world of the intellectual and properly plan out the kidnapping. This was one of Macavity's hugest plots to date, and they absolutely could _not _fail him this time. The Hidden Paw had made it clear Butch would be horribly tortured in some way if anything went wrong. But if he would be allowed to live, Butch would make sure to horribly torture his own incompetent gang of moggies just to make himself feel good again. That was the way of the henchcats.

"Aun'y Cleo!" shrieked an extremely high pitched voice, apparently from nowhere. Butch looked up to see a miniscule, grey kitten with dark spots bounding around the corner of the bus station gleefully. He sighed inwardly; the tiny thing was obviously the runt of whatever group of siblings it had come from. It was way too small for a six month old.

He looked at Cleo in time too catch a true smile on the queen's face, her former beauty shining in her eyes for a split second. Then she turned away, sneering sheepishly, and the small alley was darkened once again.

"Harley," she greeted the kitten as it rubbed its petite head on her shin. "How're your parents?"

"Drunk," Harley admitted casually, her voice high and innocent sounding. "They sneaked into the brewery one way or anothah. I found 'em circling a car as if it was going to eat 'em." Her eyes grew huge and shiny. "Aun'y Cleo, when are we killin' the Jellicles?"

"We're not killing any Jellicles. Macavity gave us a special mission. We're after the one he wants most," Cleo said proudly. "Harley, let me introduce Butch and Topper." She gestured to them in turn.

Harley watched Topper with interest as he snarled quietly.

"Cleo," she said, poking her aunt's foreleg. "Cleo, that tom smells funny."

The grey queen snorted in laughter as the sandy tom's eyebrows fell so far downwards his forehead wrinkled like a pollicle's.

"Topper was once a very pretty tom, Harley," Cleo said, smiling mischievously. "He was once as white as the snow and had eyes bluer than the sky."

"Really?" Harley asked, fascinated.

"Yeah. But he lost all self respect and stopped washing."

"I did not!" Topper objected, getting to his feet threateningly. "I just turned yellow from stress, alrigh'? How many more times are you gonna repeat that load of crap?"

"When you're quite finished," Butch said, wisely preventing the incoming argument. He shot the three cats a look that told them he had more respect for something wedged between his toes. "I can hear the rest coming."

Topper and Cleo immediately sat up straight to try and look professional. They _were _Macavity's favourite henches, after all. It was only fitting they should put on an air of superiority.

A few moments later, three more cats rounded the same corner Harley had appeared from. They were all short and extremely ragged in looks, though the leader of the trio was muscled and broad shouldered. Presumably the rest of the henches were hiding somewhere nearby as to not rouse suspicion in the bus driving humans and their passengers.

"Butch," the lead cat nodded. Butch nodded back and trotted towards the newcomers.

"Everyone's ready?" he asked, trying to sound restrained and patient. The muscled tom smiled, his sallow eyes glinting in the dusk.

"Oh, they're ready all right. Ready to pick off those damn Jellicles one by one!" he laughed wheezily, which was quickly followed by the other two cats with him. "You got the shitty end of the stick, mate, not being allowed to kill that tom. I'd willingly get me ears cut off just to take a mad swipe at 'im!"

Butch muttered something indiscreetly which sounded like 'That's because you're an idiot,' but the tom chose to ignore it for the moment. He was too hyped up.

"Let's go kick some Jellicle arse."

Butch sat and waited as the cats around him partook in maniacal laughter. He half expected lightning to shoot from the sky just to cheese up the moment.

He couldn't wait to get his claws around that maine coon and throttle him for all the times he had gotten away from the henches. No longer was _he_ going to be the humiliated one.

* * *

"…_For he's the master criminal,_

_Who can defy the law._

_He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard,_

_The Flying Squad's despair…"_

Tugger opened his eyes in panic, thinking that everything that had happened in the past day was a dream and that he was still lying on the side of a road somewhere, but reality soon came to him as he felt someone's paws stroking his head soothingly. Why was he still in Deuteronomy's cabinet den? Had his family kept him locked up just so he wouldn't fall into trouble for another five minutes? Surely they weren't that cruel. Wouldn't he run out of oxygen?

"…_For when they reach the scene of crime,_

_Macavity's not there…"_

The voice was far from angelic, but still beautiful, as well as slightly husky and seductive. There was only one cat that voice could belong too. Tugger smiled to himself dozily.

"Y'know, a song about Macavity isn't exactly the best thing to wake up too," he said, but his voice was weirdly muffled. It took him a while to realise his head was burrowed in her lap. The stroking stopped for a moment.

"How long have you been awake?"

"About ten seconds."

"Oh." He could hear the smile in Bombularina's simple reaction. "I'm glad you've finally decided to join the world of living. It's been really rather quiet."

Tugger could hardly believe that; his ears were still ringing from the half-shouting half-laughing words Munkustrap had 'uttered' once he and Mistoffelees had arrived back to the Junkyard. Tugger had learnt the hard way how far his brother could expand his lungs when the time called for it. It definitely wasn't on his list of happy memories. During the whole thing he had just wanted to cover his ears and pretend he was in a warm living room, delicately eating smoked salmon and meringue cake, but it had proved impossible. Especially with Old Deuteronomy looking like he was about to kill someone.

He clumsily poked at his skull to feel the damage, but was rewarded with a cringe-worthy throb of pain and a headache.

"You hit your head really hard, you know," Bombularina said, her voice suddenly turning sad and melancholy. "Jennyanydots actually thinks you got a bit concussed, seeing as you were throwing up everywhere this morning."

"What?" Tugger said wearily, trying to remember that incident. "I was fine after waking up on the road. Fit as a fiddle."

"Well, you're not fit as a fiddle _now. _You're a mess; you wouldn't stop moving around the whole time you were asleep. It took all my strength to stop you rolling out of the den and onto the ground. Now that would have been a worse way to wake up." The smile was back. The scarlet queen began inching her paw down Tugger's neck and to his chest, where her claws flexed gently enough to tickle his skin. "You say the _funniest _things when you're asleep. I've been quite entertained."

"How long have you been sat here?" the maine coon asked sleepily, fighting a random urge to cuddle into the queen and begin sucking his thumb.

"The whole of last night and today. It's sunset, you know. You sure can sleep when you want too."

Tugger shifted so that the back of his head rested on the queen's thigh. He stared up at her for what felt like the first time in years, noticing how tired she looked and how she could still pull it off. Her softly sparkling eyes were full of concern and contentment, which he was extremely grateful for, since he was feeling rather ill and unloved ever since the fiasco the night before. He briefly wondered if his brain had treated Munkustrap's reaction to his appearance as some sort of trauma and had blocked it out of existence. He could hardly remember a thing about the day before. But he couldn't care anymore; not when he was alone with Bombularina, who was positively sex on legs.

The scarlet queen hummed gently as she began grooming his face, her tongue scraping away all the blood and grit that had gathered in his fur. It was moments like this she adored with Tugger. She loved cleaning him and brushing the tangles out of his golden mane, especially at night when the world was quiet and mysterious. It always brought a fulfilling satisfaction to her knowing that she was the only one he would allow to groom him in such a fond manner. Whenever anyone else had tried to do it in the past he had always shrugged them off and told them he didn't need it.

After the last piece of road had been cleaned out of Tugger's fur, Bombularina ended her grooming with a swift kiss on his warm lips. He had watched her the whole time with a fierce interest in his golden eyes. Bast, did he ever love it when she devoted her time to him.

"Bombularina?" he murmured, as her paw found its way back to his chest.

"Yes?"

"Thanks. I love you."

And then he promptly fell asleep.

Bombularina felt a tingling thrill shoot up her spine, making her shiver in delight. It happened every time he said those three words, whether he said them seriously or jokingly. She knew that that simple sentence proved that he belonged to her in every single way, and she him, at least for the moment. She also knew various other queens were craving Tugger's attention in that aspect. However, despite popular belief, the large tom wasn't a two-timer and wouldn't betray Bombularina for another queen without her knowing. He flirted, but only for fun. He looked but he never touched. The scarlet queen was the _only _queen he saw for the time being.

She sighed, briefly remembering that relatively short amount of time she had spent with Cassandra under the bush in Tugger's garden while he was searching for things for the party. Her friend had admitted that she couldn't forget the time Tugger had been hers and still loved him, though she had said it with an apology and the promise that she would never betray Bombularina's trust. Bombularina didn't know if she could ever stop keeping an eye on the sleek queen, just in case her mild flirting ever went too far or if she hinted to the maine coon how much she wanted him. Plus there were the kittens – who were now growing into pretty little queens – she would probably have to compete with sometime in the future. It just wasn't fair how good looking Tugger was.

Bombularina idly curled the fur on Tugger's forehead, since the stylish twist of fur that was usually there had disappeared at some point the day before. She wished the world was simpler and that soul-mates truly existed, then she would know for sure that she would be with Tugger forever without any complications. But unfortunately, the future is never set in stone and there's always problems arising.

"I love you, too," she said to the sleeping tom. His only response was a rather pig-like grunt.

Well, whatever problems did arise and whatever threats crossed their paths, she would always be there for him. Even if he chose someone else over her, she would accept it good naturedly and respectfully, just to see him smile.

The scarlet queen jumped violently as a sudden, rapid knocking echoed through the den.

"Bomba? Bomba?!" someone shouted, their voice panicked. She turned to see Munkustrap staring at her the other side of the glass door.

"What is it?" she hissed impatiently, pointing at the sleeping tom on her lap.

"Wake him up _now._ Every cat in the Junkyard needs to meet at mine and Demeter's den. Something terrible has – is about to happen! Hurry up!"

The grey tabby immediately sped away. Bombularina groaned in disbelief. How much more excitement were the Jellicles going to have to take? Couldn't anyone just leave them alone for one day?

"Tugger." She shook him gently. "I'm sorry, you've gotta get up. Something's happening at the centre of the yard."

The maine coon grumbled moodily, his eyes still firmly shut.

"N' I don't," he objected. "It's me day off."

"Get up, lazybones. Munkustrap looked really franctic," Bombularina urged, getting to her feet. She opened the door and allowed a chilly wind to ruffle both their coats.

"Ugh! Fine, if it was noble Munk who decided to make an appearance, we'd better not waste his valuable time," Tugger groaned again, dragging himself out of the cabinet. His head felt heavy, like it was full of sloshing water. Maybe if he pretended he was drunk it wouldn't be so bad. It was just like his stupid brother to wake him up during the best nap if his life.

The two cats stretched dozily and began the short journey to the centre of the Junkyard, where the Jellicles who resided there were gathered in the large clearing. Munkustrap was sat on the bonnet of the old banger, twisting his tail in his paws in a clear sign of distress and anxiety.

"Munk? What's goin' on?" Tugger muttered moodily, he and Bombularina joining the crowd. He _really _just wanted to go back to sleep. What was so important that he wasn't even allowed to do that?

"Everyone," the grey tabby said slowly, as if speaking in a low monotone would somehow prevent the impending disaster. "Coricopat and Tantomile have had a vision. I'm afraid we're going to have company very soon."

Tugger rolled his eyes. Knowing the twins, the 'company' would probably just be a couple of cockroaches looking for a home amongst the Junk.

"Macavity has sent all of his henches after us. They'll be arriving shortly."

Wait, what?

Everyone blinked in shock. Tugger's chest tightened considerably, constricting his air passages. If that damn cat had sent _all _of his henches … then they were screwed, big time. Was he doing it just to get at Tugger? Did he somehow think that would make Tugger waltz right into his evil lair of pain and doom? Was that his so called 'cunning' plan?

"Erm," the maine coon said, flattening his ears. "I probably should have told you this earlier … but Macavity's after me. That's why the goonies have been attacking me all week."

This caused instant nattering amongst the tribe. His friends expressed thoughts of worry and concern, whilst his not-so-friendly friends muttered to each other about how careless Tugger was. Well, it wasn't his fault the walking carpet was after him, was it? Surely the henches wouldn't harm the Jellicles just to draw him into their midst. It was a good plan, but he wasn't having any of it.

"Erm," he said again, though much more confidently to attract everyone's attention. "I think I should go and see what they want."

"No," Munkustrap hissed immediately, casting an angry stare at his half-brother. "I thought I'd lost you once. I'm not going through that again."

"Pfft. Be realistic, Munk. They're not coming for a cuppa and a nice chat. If they want me then they're gonna fight for me. Y'know, when cats get out their claws and fangs and scratch each other to death?"

"Stop joking around, Tugger! If we don't think of a plan-"

"We already have a plan," the maine coon said, folding his forelegs across his chest. "I'm gonna go and see what they want. If it's me they're after, I'm going without a fuss, alright? You know me, I could escape from Macavity's hell-hole whenever I want and jig right back through those gates." He casually gestured to the Junkyard entrance. The Jellicles watched him calculatingly, trying to sum up his plan in their heads. It was risky, but it was all they could do if they didn't want a fight. No doubt there would be much more henchcats than Jellicles. They were bound to lose.

"We don't have a choice, Munkustrap. The kittens can't fight, and neither can the oldies." Tugger nodded to a cluster of cats to his left (who 'hmph'd' haughtily), then turned his gaze back to the fuming tabby above him. "I'm not an imbecile. I know an idiot when I see one, and there are definitely lots of idiots amongst the henches. Who knows, maybe I'll be able to trick my way out of it-"

"No, Tugger! Just be quiet and let me think! _I'm_ getting us out of this. If you think you can just joke and trick yourself out of every situation then you're wrong! Everlasting Cat, I'm surprised you haven't been killed yet!"

The maine coon physically winced in shock. His brother had never, ever taken that kind of tone with him. Ever. It wasn't his nature. Tugger's so called 'plan' must really have sucked if even Munkustrap got stressed out with it. Well, the fact they were about to be invaded by smelly street-cats obviously didn't help, but still. It wasn't fair.

"Calm down, Munkustrap," Demeter ordered softly. "It's not his fault."

"Pah! Yeah right. He probably just owes Macavity money and is too cowardly to say anything. What did you lose it on this time, Tugs? Poker? Catnip? It's catnip, isn't it? Did you deal it and _forget _to pay him back?"

Tugger winced again, but this time in anger. Who the hell did Munkustrap think he was to assume Tugger was partners in crime with Macavity? That was probably one of the worst insults he had ever heard. The tabby wasn't exactly Mr Perfect himself, no matter if that was what he came across as.

"Maybe this is just a massive scheme of yours," the Jellicle Guardian continued, gesturing wildly with his paws. "You lost the money and now you're going to pay him back with _us_. Well, it wouldn't surprise me. You two always were alike."

Oh no he did _not!_

That was definitely the worst insult.

Tugger turned his back on his brother and rubbed his forehead, trying to think of anything other than his situation. Birds, the ocean, reciting the alphabet backwards … anything to stop him from mauling Munkustrap on the spot. He could easily win over that stupid, snobby tom with a quick swipe of his paw. No one compared Tugger to Macavity. It was like comparing a cute, fluffy bunny and a machine gun. They were most definitely, most certainly completely unalike. At least, he hoped they were.

"The henches are coming, Munkustrap, and all you can do is wonder if I owe Macavity money? In case you forgot, we don't even _use _money! The Jellicles are in danger, so do your freakin' job!" Tugger turned around and bared his teeth. "I'm gonna see what they want whether you like it or not. It's not gonna hurt anyone."

Munkustrap took in a few deep breaths to try and calm himself. He knew Tugger was right, and he regretted his harsh words. By ignoring his responsibility just to shout at people, he was ignoring his job of Jellicle Guardian. Possibly everyone's lives were in his paws at the moment. Well, almost everyone's.

Tugger dropped onto all fours and began walking towards the Junkyard gates, making it apparent through body language he didn't want anyone to follow or try and stop him.

"Tugger, stay here." Munkustrap ordered, ignoring the hunched shoulders and bared claws. "Be rational. Tugger!"

The maine coon continued the journey to the entrance, too pissed off to even acknowledge Munkustrap was speaking. What the tabby had said was unnecessary and totally untrue. And who gave him the right to begin mouthing off like that? That was Tugger's job and his alone. No one was allowed to shout at the Rum Tum Tugger except his father, nor tell him how similar he was to Macavity. That one had hurt.

"Don't follow him, anyone," he heard Munkustrap order loudly, making sure everyone could hear him. "He'll realise how stupid he's being in a minute."

Tugger could hear the regret and fear in his voice, though. _Hah. I hope I get killed just to make him feel bad. That'll show him! _He thought, trying to amuse himself. Although, he couldn't help but feel just _slightly _terrified about how far he was willing to go to spite his brother.

He turned out of the Junkyard and sniffed. Yes, there was definitely a smell of rotting fish coming from the east, so there was no doubt that was where the henches were coming from. Well, at least they'd eaten. No Jellicles on the henchcat menu today.

Now he really was starting to realise how stupid he was being. Here he was, out on his own when possibly hundreds of evil cats were after him. However, pride stopped him from going back. He could just picture Munkustrap's smug face upon his return, the Jellicles gawking at him like idiots. No doubt Alonzo would make some snide comment as well, just to add to his humiliation.

"Tugger?"

The tom groaned and stopped walking. He turned his head to see Quaxo sat by a dented rubbish bin, his head cocked like a kitten's.

"Oh," Tugger muttered. "I thought you were Munkustrap coming to kiss and make up. Did he send you?"

"No. I defied orders to help you. Aren't I the best?"

"You bet you are. Sweet little Mistoffelees breaking the rules to try and save the day? Munkustrap'll eat you for breakfast."

"I know," the small tom said proudly, making his way to Tugger's side. "I thought I could sit by you and make you look bigger by comparison. That should scare them off."

Tugger laughed appreciatively. To be honest, he had been getting slightly pissed off that no one had bothered to even _try _and follow him, yet there Mistoffelees stood, his small, cheeky face gleaming in the darkness. The maine coon knew he hadn't really joined him to make him look scarier, but to add his skills where necessary. If the henches had been ordered to kill Tugger instantly, then Mistoffelees would show them a thing or two about electricity. It was one of his many talents.

"Alright then, Robin. Can you sense their intentions yet?" Tugger asked encouragingly as they walked. The tuxedo tom closed his eyes for a moment, then shook his head.

"No. It's like a pack of hyenas. They're just like … growling and slobbering everywhere. Can you picture that?"

"Vividly."

"Oh. They're getting closer," Mistoffelees said, startled. "Holy Deuteronomy, Tugger! They're practically around that corner!" He pointed frantically to the end of the road, where there was a two way fork. Panic shot through the maine coon like a bullet. He suddenly realised what he had gotten himself into. Bast, who the hell walked into a cluster of evil cats just to piss someone off? He was chow, literally. Possible death was lurking around that corner.

He half expected a tall, dark robed figure to waft around the bend, but instead, three small cats appeared, chortling amongst themselves in excitement. Confusion embodied him; was that it? Were they the terrible disaster the twins had seen? If so, he wasn't very impressed.

"They're everywhere, Tugger. Hiding," Mistoffelees said, as if reading his friend's thoughts. "They're the leaders. If I were you, I'd try and reason with them."

"Are you actually telling me to give myself in, boy?"

The magician winced in shame.

"I didn't mean it like that. But if it's the only way you can save the tribe …" He scratched his head. "I'd rather it was me than you, Tugs. Seriously."

Tugger eyed the magician oddly for a second, but decided not to give him a hard time. That's probably what he would have told someone else to do if the burden of being chased by Macavity wasn't his.

"Right. Thanks for that. Well if they take me down, tell the others I didn't scream."

"Got it."

"Erm … thanks for coming, Mistoffelees. You're my best friend, even if you think I should hand myself in. Have a good life."

The three henches arrived before them, frowning in confusion. Surprisingly, they didn't seem to like the fact Tugger was there, which was rather odd seeing as he was currently on their 'most wanted' list.

"What the bloody hell are you doin' 'ere?" the lead tom asked loudly, his muscled frame rippling in anger. Tugger raised his eyebrows and prepared to turn on his famous charm. If anything could get him out of his position, it was that. And his enormous size.

"Just minding my own business, thanks," he said, dangerously polite. The three toms growled.

"You ain't supposed to be 'ere yet. Why aren't you poncin' around your crapyard?"

_So they have a scheme,_ Tugger thought. He shot them a small smile.

"I just came out for a walk. Something wrong with that? Listen," he turned serious. "I know what you're up to. All the Jellicles do. They're preparing right behind us."

The three henches flicked their ears forward nervously.

"If I go to Macavity right now, will you leave them alone? I mean, it's pathetic of you to pick on such a small tribe that's full of kittens."

The muscled tom hesitated, clearly torn between the desire for bloodshed and the need to satisfy his master. Tugger just shrugged innocently.

"Come on. I mean, hey, I'm the grand prize here. I'm the one the big guy wants. Leave the others alone."

"_Butch!" _The lead tom screeched into the night air, seemingly ignoring the maine coon completely. Mistoffelees sagged and lightly hit Tugger's foreleg.

"Nice try, Tugs, but it seems getting you wasn't their job. In fact, that was someone else's mission completely."

"How many?" Tugger sighed, shaking his paws in preparation.

"Four, including a kitten.

"Balls. Alright, go back to the Junkyard and get everyone ready, Misto. Make them vanish under a big cloth or something, then run away. Do anything," the large tom said. He knew this was probably going to be the last time he ever spoke to the small magician, but this was no time for un-manly hugs. They both had a job to do. "Cheese it, Misto. Go on!"

The tuxedo tom nodded sadly, and then raced off down the road towards the Junkyard gates.

He felt someone's presence draw nearer to him. Where had they come from all of a sudden?

"So we meet again," a horribly familiar voice said, obviously relishing his role as a villain. Tugger turned to see the scarred face of Butch with a few other cats behind him. The three lead toms had mysteriously vanished into the night. "Are you glad to see us again?"

"Not really, no. Are you glad to see me?"

"More than you could ever imagine."

The cats surrounded him and glared with excited eyes. What exactly were these henches planning to do with him? They stared as if he was something very very tasty, which was rather unnerving. Tugger stood up straight and stuck his chest out in a vague hope they wouldn't try and devour him before they got to Macavity's den. He was bigger than Butch and the kitten combined. Surely he could take on three gangly, stick-limbed strays? And he was technically allowed to try and not get kidnapped since the alley-cat invasion was obviously still going to happen. He could ditch these dorks and help rid the Junkyard of henches, and probably crawl his way back into Munkustrap's good books.

"Before you attempt to drag me off, why does Macavity want me?" Tugger asked, casually checking his claws just to show them how sharp they were. "I mean, I'm not magical, nor would I taste very nice, so what's the deal?"

"It's none of your business," Butch growled, uncertainty in his eyes. Tugger smiled.

"Oh, so you don't know. Wow, Macavity must be really fond of you all. I'm jealous."

"Shut up, idiot. Are you coming without a fuss or what?"

"No, I'm not, I'm afraid. It's such a shame you're probably going to get punished one way or another, but I can honestly say I don't care. Toodles."

And he shoved his way through the two toms and began walking away, his tail high in the air.

"Alright, you asked for it, scum!" Butch howled. He immediately took a short bound and leapt onto Tugger's back, his teeth searching for the maine coon's throat. The cat beneath him snarled loudly and tried to shake Butch off, but the stray dug his claws into the black flank and bit whatever part of Tugger he could reach.

The other cats joined in. Cleo shoved Tugger onto his side whilst Topper scratched any part of the large tom he could reach. Harley just jumped about the scene in excitement, watching the attack with a large grin.

Tugger roared in anger. The pain was excruciating, and it didn't help his head was preventing his concentration. He knew he could beat up all of these cats with his eyes closed, but he just had to be able to get up somehow. He rolled onto his back, and with all the strength he could muster in his hind legs, he catapulted Topper and Cleo into metal rubbish bins behind them. Both of them hit the ground and wobbled dozily, rubbing their heads. Then he tore his way from Butch's teeth and punched the cat as hard as he could around the face, knocking him to the ground.

"Don't mess with cats bigger than you, small fry." Tugger laughed a bit too loudly. Butch snarled and stood up.

"You'll pay for that," he said lowly, rubbing his cheek. With a loud growl, he charged at the maine coon and the two met on their hind legs, scratching and biting at each others weak points. All Tugger could see was red. He wasn't sure if it was blood, or just his anger that was currently making him try and kill the stray hissing before him. It felt like water was boiling in his chest, making him scratch harder and snarl more fiercely. He knew he could win.

But then the kitten stopped prancing around and took note of Butch's situation. Immediately she skipped over to Tugger and grabbed his tail, and bit into it as hard as she could. The loud shriek of pain told her she had done well.

"Ow! You little brat!" Tugger howled, grabbing for the laughing kitten. Butch smiled and shoved the maine coon onto his stomach, putting a foot on his back victoriously. "Dammit!"

"Don't mess with cats smarter than you, idiot," Butch snarled. Well, that wasn't technically true – the kitten had helped him, but Tugger knew he wasn't going to admit it. He leant on an elbow and stared at the henches in annoyance.

"You cheated."

"Did not."

"You're disqualified, which means _I'm _the one who gets a prize," he growled, shoving the smaller cat's paw off of his back. He got up slowly and calculatingly. Hopefully his plan would work, since none of the goons looked like they could run too fast, but unfortunately it would withhold his return to the Junkyard. He hoped Munkustrap would hold out long enough for him to return and lend a paw. Tugger scratched his chin in mock thought.

"This isn't a game, runt," Butch said lowly, though his voice was uncertain, as if wondering what the maine coon was planning. He didn't want to be tricked again.

"Life is a game," Tugger corrected, dropping onto all fours. "You either win or you lose. And you, mate, have lost. Big time."

And with that, he grabbed the kitten with his mouth and tore up the road.

The henches blinked in shock as Harley screeched in defiance, gradually becoming quieter and quieter. Cleo began trembling in fear and anger.

"That bastard!" she yelled. "He's taken my Harley!"

"We don't need a bloody running commentary," Topper said, rolling his eyes. "Macavity'll have our heads if he escapes again!"

This gave Butch a huge kick up the backside. He had been humiliated by that damn cat again, and if they didn't catch him it would spell out the end of his miserable life. Why had Tugger taken the kitten? That would only make Cleo and the thing's parents hunt him down, which only made his situation worse. Unless he had a plan. Butch didn't like plans anymore; they usually resulted in his embarrassment or torture, and unfortunately he was caught up between the two craftiest cats in London. Why couldn't he have been born in somewhere nice and easy to live, like Devon, or even somewhere in the Caribbean? Then he wouldn't be in a trodden gang of cats who had nothing better to do than chase after their boss's brother.

"Topper, chase him. You're the fastest," he ordered, kicking a squashed beer can in infuriation. "Bring him down. Knock him out if you have too, and then come back for us."

"Yessir!" the sandy tom saluted. He scampered up the road as fast as his skinny paws would carry him, sniffing eagerly for the Jellicle's scent. "I'll get 'im for ya, Cleo!"

Tugger winced as the kitten's screeches grew louder and more high pitched. Luckily he had managed to grab her by the skin on the back of her neck, so her limps were stiff and unresponsive. Not that it mattered anyway – her scratches would do no more damage than a bunch of flowers. He could sense someone behind him, gathering speed. Luckily only the scrawny, dirty tom appeared to have chosen to follow him. Well, he could deal with that bag of bones, even with a kitten in his mouth.

He wasn't completely sure himself why he had taken the kitten. He planned to get answers out of her, like Macavity's whereabouts and such, but he had a feeling there was a bigger reason behind it. Maybe if he saved the kit from a life of poverty and crime, she would become his ally, and then that particular group of henches would be forced to comply with him. He could groom her into a Jellicle, no problem. Maybe even shoot her a sob story or two. She was female, after all.

Tugger swerved into a slightly rougher district, making sure the sandy tom would see his exact movements and positioning. This place was familiar to him, and he knew exactly how to get rid of his stalker. He abruptly turned another corner and skidded to a halt in front of a filthy, brown wall sprayed with vulgar remarks in graffiti. It was only where the edge of a building ended, but hopefully the goon wouldn't know that.

As Tugger had carefully planned, the sandy tom turned the corner and ran headlong into the wall. He fell to his side and twitched.

Another job well done.

"That was nasty," the kitten remarked, silencing her screeches for a moment.

"Sometimes you have to be nasty to get your own way. Surely you've been taught that in St. Macavity's School of Henchcattery?" Tugger responded through his teeth. "Let's go home."

* * *

AN: Sorry for the wait, and I'm also sorry if I made Munkustrap into a right bitch in this. He's just angry.

Chapters won't be coming so quickly in the future, since I start Year 11 in a week and need to finish off some projects. Have a nice weekend, people.

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	6. Crossing Tribes

Sorry, I will answer reviews in the next chapter. Either the site's gone crazy and taken away the editing thing or it isn't working. -- Sorry for the wait also. I've been busy with schoolwork and whatnot though have found the time to add this. xD Thanks.

* * *

"I ain't going nowhere with you, mistah!" Harley howled, the muscles in her limbs twitching as she tried to move them, failing pathetically. "You ain't takin' me to the Jellicle place! I'll get germs!"

"Shut it. You live in a bin for Bast's sake, and you think _we_ have germs?" Tugger snarled, though not too harshly. He didn't really know what to do. He could either return to the Junkyard and bash some henches, or he could sit and form a plan with his bruised head. But what could he possibly plan in a situation like this one? It pained him not knowing what was going on with his friends and family, and it was even worse knowing that he wasn't any help whatsoever with a tiny kitten in his mouth. What could he do?

_I could just leave her,_ he thought, loosening his jaws slightly. _The twins could always have a vision of Macavity's whereabouts. She's not important._ But he couldn't bring himself to drop her. The thing had undoubtedly had a crappy life so far, and it wasn't her fault she was conceived by the dark side. Maybe if he introduced her to someone constantly in a good mood, like … Etcetera. Then maybe she'd by brainwashed by the constant nattering and hyper squeals.

But was taking the kid from that henchcat making him just as bad as Macavity? He sighed in indecision.

"I'm gonna let you go, now," he said, looking down his nose to the two pointed ears just visible. "But I'm not gonna let you run away. I'm gonna let you make a choice."

"Eh?" Harley muttered, wincing as her backside hit the ground. She felt a heavy paw trap her tail to the tarmac. "What the …? Get offa me, you … you big meanie!"

"It's gonna take more than that, kit," Tugger smirked, showing his sharp teeth. "Listen, I can get you away from all of this. You don't have to lead a buggered up life in a sewer somewhere. You can have proper friends that'll catch food for you and make you laugh. Do you really wanna live like some homeless street-cat for the rest of your life?"

"Just because you have a home!" Harley folded her forelegs moodily. "You don't haftah be all noble and kidnap me. I'm just fine with me family, you nonce!"

"Pah. You think I'm some human suck-up who thrives on caviar and wears a nice, pretty tiara, don't you? I don't have a human home anymore, kid. I live with the Jellicles, and if it weren't for them I wouldn't be anything. We're not all poncey and stupid like you've been taught. C'mon, give me a decision and make it snappy. I've got places to be."

"Why the 'eck are you inviting me to join?" Harley sniffed, turning away from him. "I can't dance or sing."

"So what? I can't eat liver without getting the runs. It's not important if you can't dance or sing. No one's gonna judge you."

"They will. My parents are henchcats."

Tugger smirked again. He was pleased the kitten was clearly considering his offer, especially since they had only just met. Maybe his powers of persuasion were better than he thought.

"Hah. They'd have to get though me first."

Harley sized up Tugger with a quick sweep of her eyes. He was surprised to see she looked slightly nervous and curious at the same time. Maybe he intimidated her. That was good; he didn't want her to get too close too him, otherwise he'd have another fan girl on his paws. It was usually inevitable, though, unfortunately.

"I can't leave anyway," the kitten sniffed again. "Me parents will kill me. And me brothers. And Macavity, probably."

"Do you love your family?" Tugger asked, making the kitten blink in confusion. He knew it was a bit of a stupid question, taking unconditional love into account, but he had to know if she would regret becoming a Jellicle. He doubted she would, but he didn't want her to start crying and force him to get comfort food. That had happened with quite a lot of queens in the past.

"Why should I tell ya? I don't even know ya!" Harley snorted childishly. "Doncha know it's rude to ask a stranger personal questions?" She tried in vain to pull her tail from under his paw, but failed miserably. "Don't act like you care about me! I don't need anyone!" But then, her eyes softened slightly and turned to his. "I did when I was younger," Harley said, looking up at the sky in thought. "I'm not so stupid now. They don't care for me, why should I care for them?"

"Alright, well that's that sorted." Tugger took a deep breath and stood up, apparently startling the young cat before him. He grabbed the back of her neck with his other paw and brought her up to his face, smiling mischievously. "You're gonna be a great Jellicle."

"B – but … what? I ain't just gonna leave with you! You're Macavity's brother! You could be planning anything!"

"Sorry to burst your bubble, kid, but you ain't my type."

Tugger laughed and replaced the kitten back in his mouth. He had decided to return to the Junkyard, Harley or no Harley.

* * *

Mistoffelees flew around a corner into the street that contained the Junkyard. He was so scared he wanted to find a nice, big bed and dive under it, never to show his face ever again, but he knew he couldn't. Already he could smell the henches and their evil desires. Was he too late? He hoped no one had been hurt because of the fact he wasn't there to work his magic.

_Bast, Tugger, _the small magician thought, his eyes wide in panic. _If I die, I'm going to kill you._ But even though an eensy weensy part of Mistoffelees actually despised Tugger at that moment, he couldn't help but wish the huge tom was with him now, keeping a cool demeanour and level head. Heck, maybe the tuxedo tom would have a larger chance of survival with that brute of a cat walking beside him like some sort of body guard. No one would mess with the Rum Tum Tugger in a foul mood.

Mistoffelees blinked in confusion at his own thoughts. Why was he acting like such a kitten? Tugger wasn't a big brother who always had to keep a watchful eye. They could both take care of themselves. Why did he even doubt his own magical abilities when he knew they were the best in all of London?

Then suddenly, from nowhere, came a loud, agonized yell from the direction of the Junkyard. It was high and full of terror. He _was_ too late. Someone had been hurt. Or worse. He was so shocked he stumbled and nearly did a face plant in the tarmac.

And then, a sight so terrifying and impossible crossed his vision he skidded to a halt, his jaw quivering in shock. _No … It can't be … _

At that moment, the magician forgot he had powers. He was so scared his paws trembled violently, not even emitting so much as a spark. Everything was over. He couldn't do anything. Mistoffelees gasped breathlessly, then turned tail and ran away from the Junkyard as fast as his small body would go. There was nothing to be done … except …

If he couldn't help the tribe now, he knew Tugger could. But the maine coon would need friends and allies. Mistoffelees knew that the only way to help his friend was to make him assume the magician would no longer be with him anymore. Tugger had to think all of the toms were gone. Every single one of them. Then maybe, just maybe, they would have a chance.

* * *

Tugger's claws tore angry scratches at the ground beneath his feet as he walked. If that kitten didn't shut up wailing anytime soon, he knew he would have to throw it into a dustbin and leave it there to get squashed by the giant rubbish-eating truck that haunted the streets. He now realised there was a cat with more powerful vocal cords than Etcetera herself, something he would never have thought possible. His ears were literally being burned by the child that was surely the daughter of the Devil Cat that lived beneath the Earth, torturing feline souls for their sins. Or worse, the spawn of Macavity. Not that there was much difference.

"Everlasting cat! Shut up! Just _shut up!"_ he half begged through the bundle of fur in his mouth. His pleas went unheard. "Half the country can hear you!"

"Good!" Harley shouted, desperately trying to move her forelegs, but it proved impossible. She cursed the Everlasting Cat for the dratted loose skin on the back of her neck. She couldn't even twitch her claws. "I didn't say I wanted to be a Jellicle. Take me back to me aun'!"

"No. I'm actually saving your life right now. Show a little appreciation, would you?" Tugger growled. "One day, when you have your own set of cuddly kittens, you'll be thanking me for this."

"You won't even be alive then, 'cause as soon as you le' me go, I'm gonna kill you!"

Tugger laughed darkly. "What're you gonna do? Scream me to death? You really have no choice in this matter, kid. I've wasted valuable Jellicle-rescuing time by running off with you, and I'm not letting you just go back to Macavity's evil lair – wherever it may be – and tell tales. Nope. You're a Jellicle through and through."

"I'm bloody well not! You le' me go now and I won't say anything abou' you. Deal?"

"Sorry, kid. But Macavity's already done the damage. I swear to you, if one of my friends has so much as a _scratch, _I'm gonna hunt down your boss, kill him with my bare paws and wear his fur like friggin' Hercules. And it'll be your entire fault for not shutting up when I asked you too. Just be quiet and let me kick some henchcat tail, okay?"

This provoked a silence from the young kitten. For some reason, Tugger was weirdly enjoying being nasty to the kid, as if he were taking his anger at the henches out on her. Plus, if he scared her, she might not voluntarily walk out of the Junkyard and blab to Macavity out of fear Tugger would hunt her down. He didn't necessarily like the part he took her from her aunt, but it had to be done. A sort of tough love. He had mostly done it for the kitten's sake, and not just because he wanted answers from her. Apart from that, he just generally wanted to show someone how dangerous he could be. Defenceless kittens seemed to work. It made him feel even more powerful.

Tugger's ego suddenly collapsed at that point. He couldn't think like that. Not ever. He sighed painfully as memories that were usually locked away danced before his mental eye, reminding him he had gone to far. It always happened whenever he said something particularly nasty, or thought something despicable. His temper was surely his worst flaw. It made him too much like Macavity.

The maine coon's eyes softened slightly, and he loosened his grip on the kitten's skin. "Look, kid. I didn't want to do this, but I just had too. It's not gonna be as bad as you think."

"You're mean," Harley pointed out, though her voice was nowhere near as loud as it had been. "Though you ain't as bad as Macavity, I guess. My aun' fancies him real bad, which I think is weird. It _is_ weird, isn't it, Tuggah? How can you fancy a cat that looks like he owns the National Grid?"

"Dunno. The simple fact he abuses queens would put me right off," Tugger replied dully.

"Does he? He's eviller than I thought. I hope he leaves her alone."

"Kid, you have absolutely no idea how evil he is. He goes right off the bad-o-metre, which is saying something."

"Where're you on the bad-o-metre?" the kitten asked curiously. Tugger paused for a moment.

"About half way. It changes, though."

"Can you be as bad as he is?"

"Of course not!" Tugger half hissed, flattening his ears. "I'm a womanizer, I've taken catnip, have been drunk a considerable number of times and might be a petty thug, but that's all. I ain't the epitome of evil. I don't like, sit in my den playing an organ while laughing maniacally. I'm one of the good guys, kiddo."

There was silence as the kitten fell into deep thought. Tugger rolled his eyes before sniffing the air eagerly, trying to pick up the musty smell of the Junkyard or his fellow cats. Nothing. Perhaps they were still too far away.

"You smell like Macavity," the kitten suddenly said, unrestrained. The maine coon felt a pang of annoyance in his chest. First the pollicles, and now the kitten? Had he always smelt like Macavity? Why had no one ever told him before?

"Thanks. Now shut up," he growled, bored.

"It ain't like, the _same_ though," Harley observed. "You smell nicer, actually. I could get used to it."

Tugger didn't reply. He couldn't be bothered to talk anymore; it wasted too much energy. Inside he was desperately panicking about his friends and family. Had the henches invaded the Junkyard yet? What was Mistoffelees doing? Had he managed to save them? Tugger immediately quickened his pace and began a fast trot in the general direction of the Junkyard. He regretted running so far when trying to trick that scrawny goon, since he had wasted valuable time. Everlasting Cat, maybe even Macavity had decided to show his face. What would the Jellicles do then?

Tugger sincerely hoped Jennyanydots had sharpened her claws. She seemed to be the only one who scared Macavity. Maybe because she used to spank him into next week whenever he had played a prank on someone. Not that it taught him anything.

"Is my aun'y gonna come and get me?" Harley asked solemnly, her voice sounding croaky and tired from her previous screaming. "She's not just gonna leave me, is she?"

"I dunno. She fancies Macavity, doesn't she? You'd better hope she doesn't choose him over you." Tugger muttered, not even trying to give comforting words.

"She wouldn't," the young kitten objected.

"Meh. People leave others behind for their own desires. Everyone's the same."

Harley remained silent as Tugger padded through the streets, sniffing for a scent every so often. Soon he reached the street that held the gates to the Junkyard. He didn't like the strange feeling in the air; it was eerie and empty feeling. There was a foreboding silence hammering into his mind, warning him that something was wrong. Shouldn't there have been war cries and dustbins smashing over heads? Where was the fight? No way could it have been over already. He had only been gone about quarter of an hour.

He trotted sullenly through the rusted gates and made his way to the centre of the yard. The silence was stronger than ever, but even worse was the sense that something horrible had happened. The disturbing feeling hummed dully at the back of his head, almost smug sounding.

"Uh, where are they all?" Harley asked, voicing his own thoughts. The Junkyard appeared to be completely empty, void of any life apart from the two cats in the centre and a few rats. Tugger's claws flexed nervously into the soft ground. Maybe Mistoffelees had managed to get them all away. Maybe they were all back at their human houses or at least in a nicer district. After all, where else could they be?

"Looks like they got away before your lot could start on 'em," the maine coon smiled slightly, allowing a superior tone to his voice. "Hah. Stupid henchcats don't know who they're dealing with. It looks like we'll be waiting here a while, kid. I'd better find you a jigsaw or something, eh?"

Tugger dropped the kitten from his mouth, though like before, kept a paw firmly on her tail.

"At least, I hope they got away," he added, glancing about the glum darkness with his sharp eyes. Everything seemed so lugubrious and morbid. The sky was blanketed by grey clouds that smothered the moon and stars, and the city landscape was a shadowy black as a heavy fog rolled in from the south. He could barely even see the streetlights, their sickly orange glow just round patches in the darkness. The whole district was asleep. Nothing moved. The only sounds were the occasional snuffling of a mouse, or a spider scuttling across the car bonnet.

"This is weird," Harley pointed out, not even thinking to struggle against Tugger's paw. "It's like no one was ever here."

Tugger suddenly felt extremely alone. Surely Munkustrap would have thought to stay behind, or at least Mistoffelees, just to tell him where everyone was? Doubt was niggling at him like a flea, biting every now and again. Deep down, he knew it was all good to be true. Not everyone could have gotten away. Something had happened.

And then a new scent hit him. Familiar, though not friendly. Nevertheless, relief flooded the maine coon as he recognised the slightly spicy smell, even if it didn't belong to who he wanted.

"Demeter," he muttered, his ears perking up. "Dems, where are you?"

He heard a scuffling as someone clambered onto a nearby washing machine. Demeter's gold and black head appeared over the top, peering at him cautiously like he was a stranger. And then recognition lit up her dark eyes.

"Tugger! You're okay!" she gasped, a random smile stretching across her small face. "Thank the Everlasting Cat!"

"Where's Munkustrap? Mistoffelees? Is everyone okay?" Tugger asked urgently, though he gave her a quick smile. Was it just him, or did it look like the queen had just been crying? Her eyes were bloodshot and dim, and her limbs were stiff. Part of him didn't want to know the answer to his question.

Demeter's face darkened considerably as she jumped lithely off the washing machine. Her expression was almost forcibly unreadable, as if trying not to reveal her emotions.

"Why in the name of Bast are _you_ here?" Demeter said, her voice suddenly menacing. Tugger blinked in shock.

"Why Dems, what happened to the nice welcome?"

"Why were _you_ the only one who wasn't dragged away!" the small queen hissed, drawing nearer and nearer to him threateningly. "They wanted you! And now you're here! It's not right! Munkustrap should be sat in your place right now!"

Tugger's eyes widened in disbelief. _Dragged away? _The Jellicles had been taken by Macavity?

"B-but … what?" he stuttered. "They're all gone? He took them _all?"_

"The toms! He took the toms! They were all beaten up and dragged off because of you! What are you going to do now, Tugger? Half the Junkyard is gone, and we don't know what's happening to them! Your family and friends are possibly being tortured right now because you couldn't even keep the henches occupied for five minutes! Do you know how worried all the queens are? Everyone's in pieces thinking every male that ever walked among us is dead! What have you been doing this whole time?"

"I got mauled by a bunch of goons, that's what!" Tugger shouted back, though to his horror, a large, painful ball was growing in his throat. The toms were gone; dragged away. And it was his fault. "I had to get rid of them to come back!"

"Oh yeah? And what are you doing with one's tail under your paw! Did you see the kitten and feel sorry for it? Did you rescue it instead of coming back to help your own tribe?"

"I got beaten up, I picked up the kitten, got chased by a goon and now I'm here. What more do you want from me?"

"I want to see you dragged away by the henches!" Demeter said harshly, more tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. "I watched as Munkustrap was pulled out of those gates. I want him here with me instead of you! You're a downright coward, running off like that. I bet deep down you were terrified that Macavity would be here, so you escaped with that kitten. You've always been scared of him, haven't you?"

Tugger winced inwardly, not letting it show. He replaced shock with arrogance.

"You're stuck with me. Deal with it."

Demeter growled deeply, her teeth glinting in the darkness. Tugger could tell she was almost delirious with fear and on the verge of ripping his head off at any moment. But yet, he couldn't blame her. He still couldn't believe all the toms had been kidnapped by Macavity's goons. His father, his brother, his friends … they were gone. Why hadn't any of the queens been taken? What was Macavity up to?

"What happened? Where's everyone else?" Tugger asked, taking slow steps away from the angry Demeter. She hissed sharply, even making the kitten flinch.

"Someone else can explain it to you. I'm tired. Everyone's over there," she pointed to a tall pile of junk. The Jellicle queens had obviously taken refuge in case the goons decided to make a comeback. "I hope they can find it in their hearts to forgive you."

"Oh, for Bast's sake, Demeter! I'm sorry I wasn't here to be kidnapped. I suppose I should just head out and find them, should I? Fat lot of good that'll do!" Tugger grabbed Harley and held her to his chest in defence. "Chill out. We're all going through what you are, some of us even more! Instead of blaming people you should suggest how we're getting the toms back, alright?"

The tom rubbed his suddenly blocked nose and headed towards the pile she had gestured towards. He was hoping the queens weren't too angry, otherwise there would be nothing left of him but a spiked collar. Maybe the bereavement of losing their tom friends and family had stunned them up a bit. He was slightly disturbed as to why he wasn't feeling more upset at the news. Maybe he was just confident he could get the toms back, away from Macavity and his henchcats. The confidence would be the only thing that would give him the strength. Surprisingly, anger was much more prominent than grief.

The large maine coon slunk over the wide pile and to the other side, where he spotted the queens nestled in a small opening of ground which wasn't covered in rubbish. His heart warmed upon seeing them; he was glad they were okay, even if some of them seemed distant and shaken.

Almost immediately, big, blue eyeballs shot in his direction.

"Tugger!" Etcetera wailed in joy, souring through the air to land on one of his paws. "Tugsy's alive! We thought the baddies had gotten you, didn't we, everyone? Oh Tugger, it's been awful! You won't believe what's happened, Tugsy!"

The young cat continued retelling the story, though Tugger was to busy greeting the other queens to listen. To his relief, most of the queens seemed happy enough at his arrival, to the exception of Jennyanydots, Jellylorum and Demeter. Bombularina managed grab his ears and pull him into a rough kiss before everyone came up to hear his story. The sleek queen Cassandra watched him sternly, though she had a small smile on her elegant snout.

A loud chorus of 'Tugsy Tuggs!' and 'Rummy!' emanated from the kittens as they attempted to bundle over him and surround him in the innocence of youth, though the even younger one in his mouth hissed and forced them to retreat.

"…and now you're here!" Etcetera finished, apparently not realising no one had bothered to listen. She eyed Harley in disdain, as did everyone else.

"Tugger, why have you got a youngling in your paws?" Cassandra asked, slinking up to rub his shoulder with her nose. She sniffed the kitten wearily.

"I … uh-"

"He beat up my aun' and her friends then stole me from her to get back at my lot!" Harley half shouted, voicing what he couldn't.

"Hey!" Tugger growled, raising her to his face. "I thought we both agreed it was for your own sake, you snotty little fleabag. Don't make me throw you out into the streets." He looked up at the queens. "Erm, she was just standing by, y'know? I felt sorry for her."

Jennyanydots snorted rudely. "Pah! And who's going to have to look after it? Me! You're a curse, Rum Tum Tugger! I wish you hadn't of come back at all!"

"Oh, come on, Jenny. Look at her. She's adorable. She's like a young me," the maine coon chided, holding the kitten as if to advertise her.

"Even worse," the gumbie cat muttered under her breath. Tugger sighed and put Harley down next to Jemima.

"So what happened here? I'll explain this thing properly later," he flopped his hand lazily as a gesture towards the kitten. "I want to know what's happened to my family. What happened when I left?"

Bombularina spoke up before anyone. "Mistoffelees disappeared for obvious reasons. Munkustrap pretended not to notice he was gone, which was wise, I think. We all tried to decide the best way to deal with the situation but it proved impossible; we just argued and shouted our views and we didn't get anywhere. Even Deuteronomy couldn't shut everyone up. And then the henches came." The scarlet queen took a deep, shuddering breath as her eyes glazed over in memory. "Munkustrap was quiet for a minute, but then he said that we were falling back – the henches wanted a proper fight instead of the raid they had planned. They were giving us time to plan our moves."

Tugger's jaw fell open in shock. The henchcats were obviously evil and twisted for starting something like that with a tribe full of kittens.

"And then Munkustrap went all noble and defiant – like he does – and decided that we weren't fighting like kittens. We had to be the better cats and walk away. So we did. Little did we know that he had used Coricopat to convey a message to the other toms saying they were staying and we were going. Not even Tantomile knew what he had planned."

"So that little bugger and the toms fought after all?" Tugger asked, jaw still agape.

"Yeah. When we realised the toms had sneaked off we came back to find them and the henches fighting. We tried to help, but they had already lost badly. Most of them had been knocked unconscious. And so the henches had this little conference, and they started dragging them away while some others held us back. It was horrible." Bombularina closed her eyes and shuddered.

Tugger remained silent for a moment, his eyes switching from queen to queen. A big hole seemed to have opened in his belly. The shock of losing his family and many of his friends was starting to grow so huge he could hardly breathe.

"Not that I would wish it upon any of you," he swallowed, "but why weren't you taken?"

"Most of the henches were busy taking the toms. The others were scarce in number," Cassandra reminisced. "There was enough to hold us back, but not enough to overcome us. So they made some threats and raced away before we had even realised what had happened."

"Right …" Tugger murmured, beginning to pace. He could hardly believe it. Munkustrap, Deuteronomy, Mistoffelees … they were gone. Hell, he even missed Alonzo. Slightly. "Right. It was good you didn't follow them. Really good."

"What're we going to do, Tugsy?" the small, brown kitten, Electra piped up. The maine coon stopped pacing and turned to face the now very small tribe.

"First," he said boldly, "we have to nominate a temporary Jellicle Leader and Jellicle Guardian, then we start planning, and thenI go and rip Macavity's head off. Any questions?"

"I think you already know where this is going, Tugger," Demeter said, rather snidely. "By birthright it's you who's going to be Jellicle Leader."

"Glad we got that sorted, then. Demeter, by my brand spanking new authority, I declare you Jellicle Guardian by your rights as Munkustrap's mate. Do you accept this office?"

"Oh," she said, surprised. "Yes."

"Great. Now for the planning."


	7. Dratted Rum Tum Tugger

Gawd, I'm sorry this took so long to upload. This is always the top of my to-do list. Seriously.

**Dragonzair: **Thanks for your gut-warming reviews so far. I never knew how cool it is to have lines quoted! I'm glad you find it funny!

**Tuggers'Lil'Princess: **And the same for you too. I love quotations! *Buys you a car* And yeah, I'm from England but not London unfortunately. :]

**Taluliaka: **Thanks for gushing. You're an amazing gusher. And yay for the fact you noticed my slightly dangerous Tugger! I'm trying to make him the usual old Tugs but with a bit of Macavity sprinkled on top. You're very intuitive, Talu.

**health-critic: **Aww. xD I still find yours hilarious when I read it over. Your humour is unbeatable.

**Quaxo Mistoffelees:** Cheers! I love them too!

**MyPsuedonymWasTaken: **(Sorry, had to edit your name a bit as you just come up as a full stop on the story.)It means alot you reviewed even when FanFiction was being an arse. Thanks for the PM!!

* * *

Butch took big breaths to try and calm his nerves.

They had failed … again. The dratted Rum Tum Tugger was still running around a street somewhere with Cleo's niece, and now Butch was supporting a dreary Topper, who had a rather large lump growing in the middle of his forehead. How the hell that goddamn tom knew all the right times to make an escape, he didn't know. And with a henchcat in his teeth? Impossible. Butch just couldn't understand what he was doing wrong, for it wasn't as if Tugger was the strongest of cats, nor the fastest. Not to long ago, he had compared the chase like trying to catch smoke. Now he knew catching Tugger would be an even more impossible situation than a friendly Macavity.

"The others may have caught him, Butch," came the often snide voice of Cleo, who was sat on an empty cardboard box as if she had no care in the world. The tom hissed and turned his head upwards to glance at the large warehouse they were waiting by – the same area they had met Macavity when the plan was formed. It was midnight. And they had no maned nemesis trapped in their claws.

"I really doubt that," he replied lowly. Despite his breathing exercises, his heart was leaping about like a rabbit on speed. Macavity's words clanged in his head like an ear-splitting bell: _"I'll be expecting you here on Wednesday with Tugger in your claws. It isn't too much to ask. Fail me at suffer the consequences."_

He was a goner.

"Dun' panic, Buzz," Topper drawled, clumsily poking Butch in the head. "M-Makaty isn't gun' kill you, iz 'ee, Cleo? For him t- … t- … Er, wuz the word I'm lookin' for?"

"To?" Cleo swirled her tail in agitation.

"Yeah. For him to kill yaz is like a king killin' his favourite mistress! Uh ... servant. I mean' servant. If 'e feels like killin' anyone it'll be that macho cat dude we met, eh?" The sandy tom gave a lazy grin. "Makaty'll show 'im a fing or three. He'll kick his behind."

"What?" Cleo said abruptly, giving Topper a sour look. He winced.

"Arse. I meant arse."

"That's better."

Butch growled and pulled away from the scrawny tom, causing him to fall over in surprise. He could hardly believe his comrades were so unbelievably stupid and naïve! Here they were, nattering like imbeciles, and their deaths were probably minutes away. Macavity didn't even know the word 'mercy'. He would kill anyone without a second thought. What made them think he would waste his time blaming someone else? After all, it was _their _job to catch Tugger, not the others. Butch had failed yet again. Surely he wasn't even worthy of being called a henchcat!

The worried tom sat a fair distance away from his comrades, his ears flat and back hunched. It was all over.

A dull haziness thickened the air as a familiar, sharp scent wafted closer.

"Do my eyes and nose deceive me?" came the slithery, sly voice of Macavity. Butch's chest tightened as the red fiend turned the corner of the warehouse, his dangerous eyes glinting. Once again, the world silenced in fear. "Why isn't my brother amongst you? What has happened?"

"Macavity," Butch sighed, attempting to stand. His knees failed him. "I'm afraid it didn't go according to plan."

The Hidden Paw's eyes narrowed.

"Your brother found the others before they reached the Junkyard. We were called over and we tried to capture him, but unfortunately he kidnapped Cleo's niece and ran away before we even knew what had happened. Topper chased him but was tricked into running into a wall." Butch shot a quick glance at the scrawny tom, who was staring into the distance blearily. "We couldn't catch him. There's been no sign of the other cats. I'm sorry, Macavity."

Butch flinched as his leader took a small step forwards. Macavity paused, a wry grin on his face.

"Do you fear your punishment, Butch? Do you fear _me_?"

"It was an accident, I swear," the scarred tom said, in a much higher voice than he would have liked. "I beat your brother in a fight! I…"

"No, you didn't. You would have lost if not for Cleo's young niece. Isn't that right?"

Butch allowed his jaw to widen in surprise. "What? How-"

"Your friend … Vito, is it? He arrived upon the scene but didn't make himself apparent. He then came back to tell me what had occurred. Does that surprise you, knowing one of your friends is a traitor? Do you want to kill him?"

"I … I don't know," Butch replied, stunned.

"Well, it's too late!" Macavity laughed then, ending his humour with an exaggerated movement of him licking his claws. "I had to have someone to take my anger out on. And well, you see, I just like doing it, and I haven't done so in a while. I like to see others hurt." The ginger cat laughed again, but with a much more deadly tone. "I've had my fill, so I won't punish you. However, you no longer have a physical part in my schemes. Instead you help plan them. Topper, Cleo, your ranks as my closest henches are stripped." The large tom turned thoughtful, an amused smile stretching his mouth. "I am being rather too kind. You'd better be grateful for my good mood."

"Yes," Butch nodded, breathing a quick sigh of relief. "Thank you." _For killing my friend, _he added to himself. The fat cat named Vito was now gone due to Macavity. Butch would have willingly injured Vito instead of killing him. He had never wanted to lose his partnership, even if the tom had been a bit idiotic and lazy at times.

_What are you thinking, you idiot, _his mind swore. _You don't have friends, remember? You work alone. Macavity did what was best…_

"Macavity," Cleo said with authority, apparently not swayed by her punishment. "The others are coming. By the smell of it-" she quickly sniffed, "-they have more than one Jellicle with them."

"Indeed," he murmured lowly, eyeing her with disdain. She sniffed uncomfortably.

About a minute or so later, the rest of the henches prowled smugly from a deserted street, turning the same corner Macavity had. The front few had bare paws, but to the surprise of Butch, Cleo and Topper, the ones following were pulling numerous cats along behind them, none too gently. It was hard to see from the distance he was at, though Butch was sure the ones captured were all male. Surely they hadn't stolen all the Jellicle tribe's male population? Were they that stupid?

Well, it would decrease the tribe's possibilities of reproduction a fair amount, at least.

"Faustus," Macavity said, aiming his gaze at the beefy, wide shouldered tom Butch had met with earlier. The tom stepped forwards and stuck his chest out with pride.

"Yeah, Macavity! We got all the males!" he half shouted in glee. "We 'ad a righ' figh' n' a half! Look, we even got the leader one – your dad, righ'?" He pointed to a dazed lump of fur being supported by three toms and a queen. Macavity sat and looked vaguely up at the stars, as if considering something difficult. Everyone waited for a reaction. Butch suddenly noticed that no one dared to go within three meters of the dangerous cat, so he was in the centre of an awkward circle. The striped cat's claws tapped on the ground below them.

"I believe I asked for one tom, not ten."

Faustus's smug demeanour loosened slightly. He lowered his ears and pawed the tarmac nervously.

"Uh … well …" he muttered. "It's like ten Tugger's, eh?"

To Butch's surprise, Macavity didn't lunge for the beefy cat. Instead he stroked his long chin in thought, and his brow wrinkled.

"Hmm. This has all become a rather large game," Macavity observed, almost gleefully. Butch was immediately reminded of Tugger's reference to life being a game. "It's like chess. We have won almost all of their pieces. It's only a matter of time till it's checkmate!"

The goons laughed amongst themselves nervously.

"All Tugger has now is the queens, and well, what can they do?" Macavity grinned. Several of the female goons present bristled in distaste, though didn't dare argue with the dark-eyed tom. "This is going to be easier than I thought. Obviously Tugger's going to try and rescue his brother, father and friends, which gives me the chance to consult him of some very important matters. And who will be there to rescue Tugger? No one. He is alone."

"But … the queens might try and stop him coming," Cleo stated. "They're not stupid. Not really."

"Oh, he'll come. If he brings his little army of females we'll just kill them all. Now," Macavity faced the goons holding the Jellicles. "Take them to storage room two; there's a lock on that door."

The goons quickly saluted and began dragging and carrying the dazed Jellicles into the big, grey warehouse. However, before they could reach the door, one of them stirred. There was an awkward silence as everyone watched a single, black and grey tom jerk his legs in an attempt to free himself, but he failed miserably.

"Macavity," Munkustrap croaked, stiffly raising his head to gaze at his half-brother. "Macavity, please."

Said cat shook his head tauntingly, and beckoned for the goons to continue taking the Jellicles away.

* * *

"Tugger!" Demeter shouted through the Junkyard air. Where had that stupid tom gotten to? After many hours of intensive planning, the maine coon had walked off in a stressful mood, complaining of a headache. She couldn't blame him, seeing as the lump on his head caused by the car was almost throbbing visibly. However, there were parts of the plan to tie up, and it was partly her responsibility to do so. She didn't care if she nagged him, since he was the one who chose her to be Jellicle Guardian anyway.

The gold and black queen sniffed around Old Deuteronomy's den vaguely, just to see if Tugger had visited. He had. In fact, he was inside.

"Tugger?" she said, more quietly. There was a sniff, and then the door of the bureau swung open with a loud creak. To her surprise, Tugger was sat in the middle of the bottom shelf with a large pillow under his paws. He was rubbing his eyes either from a bout of depression, or from weariness.

"Are you crying, Tugger?" she asked, trying not to sound smug.

"Of course I'm not bloody crying! Since when does the Rum Tum Tugger cry?" he snapped, turning away from her.

"Since his father and brother were kidnapped by the crime-lord of London?"

"Well, yeah … But I'm not crying!"

"Alright, alright. I just came to sort out a few things," Demeter said, climbing into the bureau. She was trying very hard not to tease the poor tom. Luckily she had much better self control than the cat next to her. She sniffed at a smaller cushion daintily, the sharp smell reminding her of Munkustrap. Her chest tightened considerably.

"Now, Tugger. Are you actually prepared to wait until firework night to do this?"

"Yeah. It's the only way. All the dumbarse henches will be too busy watching the fireworks to notice a gang of intruders stealing past them." The maine coon grinned nastily at the thought of his plan. "Macavity won't know what's hit him. We'll get them out of there in no time."

"Tugger," Demeter began, unsure whether to bring the subject up. Well, she hated him, so why shouldn't she make him a bit scared? "You do know you'll have to fight Macavity. He's not just going to let them go with a smile, is he? Have you thought about that?"

A touch of recognition lit up Tugger's eyes, as if someone had mentioned it before.

"Of course I've bloody thought about it. I'm not an imbecile, no matter what you may think," he growled, eyes flashing. "Even if he didn't want to fight, I would anyway. He's done enough damage to everyone. I won't let him do anymore."

"Hmm. We might have to start calling you Noble Tugger, now."

"Me? Noble? Pah. I'm not noble, Demeter; that's Munkustrap's job. I'm just a bit vindictive."

"A bit?" she snorted. "You're probably the only cat in existence who _wants_ to fight him. I think you're slightly insane, but I'm grateful for your vengefulness. I too would like to see him get his arse kicked."

"You're one of the people I'm doing it for, believe it or not." Tugger turned to face her with a wry grin. "I know you don't like me, but I was angry at what he did to you. You didn't deserve it."

A surge of gratitude shot through Demeter, despite herself. She watched her mate's brother stand and saunter out of the bureau to breathe in the night air. There was something she had to tell him, but she wasn't sure how. It was so private and secretive, and she didn't want to risk making him angry. However, she knew someone had to point it out at some stage, as it was a part of Tugger's past that needed unlocking.

"Tugger, wait a minute," she said, following him. He stopped walking away to look at her. "I know that … I know he hurt you too. When you were kittens. When you used to come home with bruises. It was him, wasn't it?"

Tugger's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Who else knows?"

"Just me, Tugger. When he did it to me, I remembered your face when you came home all those years ago. It was so familiar. I understood then what he had done to you. Why did you never tell anyone, Tugger? Your father could have stopped it."

The tom's golden eyes surveyed her with no emotion. She wasn't sure whether he was angry or pleased someone had discovered his secret. Maybe it was a mix of both. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Because I didn't want to believe it myself," he said, unfeelingly. "Don't tell anyone, Dems. I have a reputation to uphold."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Demeter objected. Annoyance filled her mind at the huge cat. What was it with toms and facing demons of the past? Why couldn't he just accept who he was? "It wasn't your fault."

Tugger continued walking away, his tail slowly sinking to the ground.

"Maybe not, but I never stopped him. I let him think it was okay. Now he's an evil bastard who doesn't care if he hurts anybody. I think part of that _is _my fault, and I'm going to be the one to put it right." His voice gradually faded as he climbed a small junk pile. The wind caught his fur at the new altitude, making his mane swirl about his shoulders. "Don't tell anybody."

And then he was gone. Demeter stared at the spot where he had disappeared, shocked at the shortness of their meeting. A new emotion was rising within her - a mix of pity and hatred. She wasn't sure whether to feel sorry for him or to retain the loathing she had always known for the boisterous tom. He seemed changed now he had responsibilities. Was that a good thing, or would it be the end of the Rum Tum Tugger forever? Part of her hoped it wasn't, even though she _did _hate him. However, he was much more useful now. She turned to go back to the queens, who were sitting in the innermost ditch of junk to be more protected against any marauding henchcats. Her mind briefly brushed against the issue of Bombularina, and whether Tugger was prepared to tell her his secrets. She had a right to know, after all, being his potential mate. Maybe she should just tell her herself? Her mind decided against that, though – Tugger asked her not to tell anyone. It would be disrespectful to let lose his secrets without permission. Yet if she could tell people what Macavity had done to her, why couldn't he?

The queen shook her head sadly, pity becoming the dominant feeling within her now. Maybe she didn't hate him _quite _as much anymore.

* * *

_Stupid Demeter,_ Tugger cursed as he disappeared from her view. _Stupid Demeter and her perceiving ways. _He had honestly hoped that no one would ever find out about those few weeks Macavity had decided Tugger was his punch bag. That time was probably the source of all his anger, though the crimes his brother had committed had severely added to it. And yet, he had been scared of his brother, but still he had followed him around and looked up to him like there was no tomorrow. He couldn't let go of him. Especially since their mother had just left. There was no one else he could've clung on to in a bid for comfort. _Munkustrap,_ his mind said snidely. _Munkustrap was always there, but you ignored him whenever Macavity was around …_ That was why he had to save him. He owed the silver tabby his life many times over. Munkustrap had always been there with open arms, and Tugger had never acted grateful once. Firework night was going to be a terrible night for Macavity and his henches, he was sure of it. He, the queens and possibly the bratty little kittens would take that place down.

Tugger stomped angrily to a reasonably flat junk pile and sat on a wooden bookcase to stare over the city. It was still fairly foggy, but this was made up mostly of dew, which was coming to settle on the earth to begin the morning. The sky was just visible now, and to the east it was just turning a vivid orange. It would be many more hours until the sun was truly risen.

He truly hoped his plan would work. There was no other way of going about it. They had to sneak past the henches whilst they were distracted with the fireworks, possibly knocking any out who noticed them. Then they had to get to wherever Macavity lived and find the toms, and somehow escape. However, he would be left alone to fight Macavity if things turned out as such. But if it meant saving the toms …

"Lovely morning, isn't it, dear?"

"Gah!" Tugger exclaimed in shock at the sudden voice. He spun around to try and find the source. However, the familiar sense of dread was creeping up within him, so part of him already knew who it was.

The creamy queen Nyxinne dropped to his level and began walking towards him with a big, gentle smile.

"Not you again!" Tugger moaned, facing his back towards her. She laughed quietly.

"It is indeed me. Didn't I say I would turn up again once you accepted your fate? You should learn to open your ears a bit more, m' boy. It's good to see you well, especially after that nasty accident. How are you coping with everything?"

"Get lost. I don't even know you," Tugger muttered harshly. "The last thing I need right now is a psychotic queen with cannibalistic tendencies invading in on me." Despite his words, he felt the queen sit a metre or so away from him, her bright eyes fixed on the back of his head.

"Don't be so obnoxious," she laughed. "I'm not a cannibal, I'm your friend."

"You're bloody well not. Go away. I have serious thinking to do."

"Ah, yes. But don't we all, Tugger? Anyway," she began. "You have accepted the fate I predicted, and my predictions are usually accurate. How do you feel about that?"

"What are you, a psychiatrist? Stop predicting things about my future and leave me alone. I have a tribe to look after and you're not helping."

"I came to tell you a story. This time it is not of the present, but of the past. Would you like to hear it?"

"No! How many more times do I have to tell you to go away!" Tugger hissed, facing her with steely eyes. "I don't care about your stupid story."

"Any other Jellicle would kill to know where they came from, and why some dub them as the curse of London. But, if you really don't want to know, then I'm sorry I bothered you."

The cream coloured queen turned to walk away. Tugger watched her, his innards itching with curiosity. It wasn't every day someone offered to tell you secrets which not even Deuteronomy knew. Maybe he could give her a few minutes to explain herself … then he would kick her out for good. She looked honest enough, at least … though Tugger knew not to judge people by how nice they looked or acted. Just a few minutes.

"Wait!" he called. Nyxinne paused, then turned to him with a smug smile. Tugger lowered his gaze angrily. "Tell me your goddamn story."

"Well, if you insist," she chuckled, moving over to him again. "I believe this is the reason I'm here, to tell you this story and to help you. I can feel it whenever my eyes rest upon your face."

"Yeah, yeah," Tugger snorted, waving a hand in dismissal. "Get on with it." Nyxinne sat closer to him this time, her tail flicking gracefully.

"Many, many years ago – millennia, in fact – this country wasn't strife with people and cities; it was covered in beautiful forests, hills and lakes. The human race was fairly primitive then, as they lived in little huts and sung around open fires. It was a lovely place. Wolves and other animals that no longer exist here roamed the forests, as did the wild cats of all breeds. These cats lived in tribes. They are our ancestors, and though they were much bigger and fiercer, they were as intelligent as you and I. They lived with no fighting, and they even joined together at times for certain celebrations."

"What the hell has this got to do with me?" Tugger interrupted, scratching his head. Nyxinne smiled.

"I'm getting there. Now, around this region their existed a tribe of cats. They were strange and recluse, and some of them even practised magic if they had the skill. But they were praised by the other tribes, as they had the power to communicate with the Everlasting Cat and send a member of their community to the paradise above every Autumn."

"Jellicles?" Tugger asked, astounded the tribe had existed thousands of years ago. He had always just assumed some power-crazy cat had just decided to call his family a 'tribe' and gather as many others in as possible. The cream queen nodded, pleased at his interest.

"Most of the other tribes saw them as being blessed, but others … others saw differently. They were jealous they weren't touched by the paw of the Everlasting Cat, and decided to spread that the Jellicles held within them the Devil Cat's power, and the Cat above had to bless them regularly to stop them performing evil deeds. The other tribes, also envious, believed this, and the Jellicles were cast deeper into the forest where no one could reach them. They were surprisingly obedient, as they moved away without so much as a fuss. For many years, they were forgotten.

"When the tribe was alone, they discovered that the magic in the tribe faded, as if the place they had once lived was the source of their power. However, one family retained its power, and the oldest male was made to be the tribe leader, whilst his oldest son made to be the Guardian. It has been this way ever since the decision was made. Their descendants – primarily you, your brother and your half-brother – are continual of this tradition. It is no coincidence your family has never been separated from each other and from this city. You are bound to it."

"You're joking!" Tugger burst out, running a paw over his ears. "Is that why Macavity has magic? Is that the weirdo darkness thing you were talking about last time?"

"Yes, Macavity has continued the magic possessed by the family all those years ago. The darkness is … something else. It is the term used for your tribe as many of your number are often corrupted by their power, or they own a supernatural gift that scares others. As you have probably realised by now, it means you are distantly related to some of your other tribe members. They too are descendants of the family. All other Jellicles have just joined at some point in the past or present, and their children live on."

"This is really hard to believe," Tugger sneered, watching her with an absurd stare. "You're telling me that somewhere along the line I'm related to Mistoffelees, Coricopat, Tantomile and Cassandra? And … and you! You have freaky abilities, too!"

"Yes," Nyxinne nodded. "Though that isn't the correct term, obviously. Neither am I a Jellicle, though my mother was your grandmother's sister. Because of this relation, her and I were cast out of our tribe to live as street cats. For this reason I've never been terribly fond of your tribe, though I have to say I'm quite attached to you, now. When you saved that poor little kitten from a terrible life, I cried myself to sleep."

"Have you … have you been watching me?" The maine coon said suspiciously.

"Not watching you, but watching over you. You're my second cousin, after all. There's nothing wrong with looking out for family, is there?"

"No," Tugger faltered. "You could've asked, though. Oh, and last time, you said something about the Jellicles not existing anymore if I wasn't born. What the heck was that all about? Why did you even tell me that story?""

"I told you the story as I figured you could search for some sort of loophole. It will help. However, about the issue of your existence, there're certain things you have to discover for yourself. Now, as I have told you this rare story, I think it's about time I left, don't you think?"

"So you're allowed to watch me, but you don't want to help me?"

"Help is on the way. There is a misperception going on with one of your friends. All is not as it seems."

"What? Who?" Tugger asked, but the queen just chuckled and began wondering away. He let her, feeling very bored of the queen's antics. She probably just wanted him to want her to stay by giving him more confusing information. Well, he wasn't going to fall pray to it this time. She didn't turn around hopefully, however, but continued walking towards the Junkyard entrance, as if she had bigger, more important things on her mind. He didn't care. He was the big, all-powerful leader of the famed evil wizard Jellicle tribe, and he wasn't letting fortune-telling queens get in his way.

But what was the misperception?

* * *

Mistoffelees paced thoughtfully outside a recluse tyre-yard, wondering whether or not to go inside. He knew he had too, but would the tribe within reject him for having fairly dangerous powers? He had to hide them. He knew how sensitive some cats were about magic and the relation it had to Macavity. He would have to change his name also, as they would immediately know his magician alter ego name. Well, he hoped they did. Anyone who didn't know the name Mr Mistoffelees had surely lived under a rock their whole lives, as he was the most famous magician in the whole of London. Well, nearly.

Steeling himself, the small tom trotted into the dirty, musty tyre yard that was spread behind a used car shop. It was like a desert of black rubber and nasty smells, smells that would beat even any scents created by the Junkyard. Wondering where on Earth he was supposed to find cats in a place that looked the same in all directions, Mistoffelees crawled over numerous tyres of all shapes and sizes. Big ones, small ones, several bike tyres … it was hardly the most interesting place to live, that was for sure. He decided to look for makeshift dens made of the round, rubber tubes. Eventually, he came across a distinctly flat layer of tyres that looked worn and severely used. Maybe this was where they held their celebrations?

"Hello?" he called, long and drawn out. "Is anybody here?"

"Who goes there!" shouted a wheezy sounding voice, making the poor magician fall through the middle of his tyre in shock. "You! Tuxey! Where do you come from?" Mistoffelees looked up to see a fair-sized, grey tom staring at him from a mound of tyres, which appeared to be rather hollow. So that was where these cats lived: in tyres. _Well, duh, _the young tom scolded himself.

"I … I'm from the Jellicles!" he shouted back, deciding it was best not to lie about his tribe. He struggled out of the hole and tried to look a bit more dignified. "I need to speak to your leader about something important. Could you show me to him?"

"Jellicle, eh? When was the last time you lot decided to mingle?" The grey tom wheezed in laughter. "Sure, sure. Come with me, Tuxey."

Mistoffelees grinned and followed the tom as he began to travel over the black rubber, apparently towards nowhere in particular. His new friend was getting on in years, though was still fit-looking. His eyes were a friendly shade of brown.

"What name do you go by, kid?" he asked.

"Er … John," Mistofflees replied. He grimaced at his unimaginative response.

"Mornin', John. I'm Jonjo. Now ain't that funny!"

"…Yeah. Ha." The magician tried to smile. There was a brief, awkward silence. "So, how do you find your way around here?"

"How do I find my way? Hah! You make me laugh, Tuxey. Just look at all the landmarks! It's impossible to get lost here!"

Mistoffelees decided not to respond to that statement. Instead, he lowered his head to watch his small paws do their work.

"Anyway, what's a miniscule kid like you doing here? I'd expect the Jellicles to send their beefiest tom to this district. What's the problem so huge that the magical wonders need our help?" The grey tom laughed again. Apparently, the Jellicles were some form of conversation starter for this tribe. "Old Deuts hasn't died, has he?"

"No. I'm here because Macavity's unveiled his newest plan, and I'm one of only two toms left. The other's with the queens now." Mistoffelees sighed, his mind crossing the thought of Tugger. He hoped he was coping with the mess Macavity had caused.

"He's killed all your toms?" Jonjo barked in horror, eyes widening. "Jeez! Sorry, kid."

"No! He's just kidnapped them all. My friend is back with the queens, looking after them all. He thinks I'm with the other toms. But I can't go and tell him I'm okay because I need to gather as much help as possible from other tribes. We really need help," Mistoffelees murmured, his eyes growing wide and pleading. Jonjo's eyes softened at the big, blue orbs staring up at him.

"Don't worry yourself, Tuxey. I'm sure the boss'll help you out. Just go in there, kid." Jonjo gestured to a mound of well-placed tyres. Mistoffelees mentally applauded himself for his little display, then scuttled into the mound as silently as he could. It was dark in there, and cramped, but his eyes and small body took care of that. There were several cats sat about idly who watched him with fascination as he approached a tom sat on a truck-tyre that had been 'decorated' with shiny string and beads clumsily stuck on with selotape. The leader was fairly chubby (though not by Bustopher Jones's standards) and friendly looking. His dark fur was turning a light grey from age.

"Yo, Tuxey. That's my sister, Jinjo," Jonjo nodded at a large, grey queen. Mistoffelees nodded back at her awkwardly. Was their some sort of naming pattern emerging here? "And that's the boss, Rudfield."

"Who's this, Jon?" Rudfield eyed the magician hungrily. "Another stray? You're welcome to join the tribe, if that's what you're here for."

"No, I'm here to request your help." Mistoffelees said, sitting down. "My tribe – that is, the Jellicles – are in danger. Half of us have been kidnapped by Macavity. All that's left is the queens and two toms, including myself. We have to save the others as soon as possible. Can you help us?"

"Hmm," the chubby leader stroked his chin. "Quite a predicament you're in, lad! Why didn't the leader come instead of you? You're a bit … uh, small to be wondering around here."

"He was taken," Misto said grumpily. "I think my friend is probably leader now since he's Old Deuteronomy's son, but he doesn't know I'm free from Macavity. I had to find help as soon as possible and that involved running away," he looked at his paws shamefacedly. "They're good cats. Will you help us, Rudfield?"

"Well…" Rudfield said hesitantly. Mistoffelees immediately tried his large-eyes trick again, his paws wringing nervously. The leader's demeanour seemed to collapse. "All right, boy. I can't guarantee any fighting, since I'm not putting my cats' lives on the line! However, I'm sure we could be of some use. I do owe Old Deuteronomy a favour …"

"Yes! Thank you! You won't regret this! My name's Mis... uh, John!"

Rudfield rolled his eyes.

"John? Why insult my intelligence, Mistoffelees?" he said, grinning. The magician winced. "You'd better take your bow-tie off next time you want to become someone else, hm? Now, as for your little plan … it can't come into effect until I meet with your leader. Now, I hope for your sake little Mistoffelees, that the Jellicle Leader isn't that dratted Rum Tum Tugger!"

Mistoffelees gulped.

* * *

Argh, too short for the time it took to upload this. My apologies. Hopefully the next one will arrive a bit faster. Perhaps in about 2/3 weeks since I have a maths retake. Revision ho.

Forgive the very angry Tugger. xP Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.


	8. Return

So sorry for the wait - mock exams are finally over. Thank you all so much for you reviews, especially the criticisms. I had got so caught up in the story I hadn't realised I was going off track, and worst of all, there was no _humour._ Hopefully there's more humour in this chapter, and I hope it's more to the story! (Another filler, I'm afraid, though something interesting does happen in it.)

And thanks to my newer reviewers also. I'm grateful when anyone takes the time to write a comment.

* * *

"_Tugger!"_

Said cat jolted violently from his sleep, almost rolling completely out of the bureau. _Why_ was he always woken with some form of violent verbal outburst? It had taken him long enough to try and get to sleep after his mind annoyingly pondered Nyxinne's stupid story, and now it was – or at least it felt like – about two minutes after he had finally dozed off. What was so important now that he wasn't allowed to even sleep for a few hours? This certainly wasn't in the job description.

"What!" he croaked loudly, swinging the doors open to stick his head out into the chilly morning air. "I'm trying to _sleep!_ Come back and bug me later!"

He sighed as a familiar white kitten with dark stripes and specks came shooting into his view, a panicked look in her large, blue eyes. He couldn't ignore Etcetera. The whole point of her existence was to be heard.

"What is it, Etcetera," he grumbled, stumbling out of the bureau. Maybe if he kept calm and didn't excite the creature, she wouldn't brain him with hugs and adoring words. "This better be-"

"Electra's stuck in a washing machine!" the young kitten squeaked, apparently forgetting to blow him a kiss for the first time in months. A bout of dull amusement made Tugger smirk subconsciously.

"What? How the hell did she wind up in one of those?"

"I don't know! We were playing hide and seek with Harley, and Electra must've gone in the washing machine. And then Harley must've found her and…"

Tugger remained silent for a second. Had Harley really taken it upon herself to shut poor Electra in a washing machine? Most of him thought the idea was rather funny, though another, tinier part told him the new kitten needed a good telling off from a responsible adult. Not that he was the most responsible cat around, but he was good enough. They were lucky he could even be bothered to go and help.

"Alright, where's the machine? I suppose we'd better get there before she runs out of oxygen." This earned him a worried look from the kitten. He smirked again. "Just kidding. Hop to it, kid, I need my beauty sleep. I look and feel disgusting right now." Tugger yawned widely and rubbed his eyes before setting off to follow Etcetera. "I hope this isn't just a bluff and you're secretly trying to make me help you find them."

"No, Tugs, honestly. She was really scared. She started crying when we couldn't get the door open," Etcetera said, turning her head to stare at him. Her eyes slid down to his chest, then back up again. She appeared to blush under her white fur. "You're strong. You'll be able to get her out, Tugsy."

Was he some sort of supercat to these kittens? Why did he have to do absolutely everything to make sure things ran smoothly? If this job entailed him rescuing kittens from washing machines, he was quitting as soon as possible and leaving everything to Demeter. He didn't have time for this kind of crap. And what was with Etcetera? She was walking stiffly and awkwardly, as if she had a huge pressure on her back. She couldn't be that scared about Electra, surely.

"I know we're all a bit troubled, Etcetera, but why are you walking like a hermit crab?"

"I … uh," she paused, looking down. "I wanted to ask you something, Tugsy."

"Shoot."

"I … I can't. It's embarrassing. Can we just save Electra, please?"

"Come on, Etcy. We all have embarrassing questions at some point. What is it? Why can't you ask the queens?"

"W-well … you know the Ball's supposed to be soon?"

Tugger began to wonder where the hell this was going. "Yeah. What about it?"

"I'm due to be a … a queen then. But if we don't get the toms back, how am I supposed to be a queen? We can't do things the way we always have." Etcetera flushed again and looked back at him. "I'll be grown, but I won't be a proper queen because … you know … of _that._"

"Kid," Tugger said warningly. "Where're you going with this?"

"I … I was wondering if you would …?"

Tugger sighed again, but he tried not to act to frustrated with the girl. It was natural for her to be having such thoughts when she was due to become a queen in a week or two, but asking him? He didn't necessarily know how to handle a situation like this delicately, as he had never been one to turn down such an offer if it appeared. But in this case, Etcetera was still very young, even for him. It was only right that one of the younger toms like Plato or Admetus did what she was requesting.

"Jesus, Etcetera. I know you're a walking hormone right now, but I can't agree to something like that."

"B-but Tugger," the kitten pleaded. He blanched wearily; it was probably the first time she had ever called him by his real name. She must've been serious. "I'll never be a queen! At least not until the other toms are back!"

"You'll be a queen no matter what. Just because certain rituals won't be followed it doesn't mean you won't be an adult. The whole mating dance was just brought in for the ball, love."

Etcetera sniffed dejectedly. "Oh. Sorry, Tugsy. Forget I asked."

"Don't fret, I'm sure I could find the time to throw you a party or something-"

"Really?" the kitten squealed, her attitude completely changed in a matter of two seconds. "Oh, you're so cool, Tugs! The others will be well jealous! I'll be the first queen ever to come of age with a party arranged by you!"

He couldn't help but smile at the new bounce in her step and the big, cheesy grin on her face. It was lucky he was something akin to a god amongst the kittens; otherwise she wouldn't have been so enthusiastic at his proposition. At least it made her forget her little problem. Now _that_ was something he really didn't need.

They eventually reached the cursed washing machine that was partially buried under a pile of filthy jeans. Next to it was Jemima, Victoria and Harley, the latter grinning like a small, mischievous demon. Tugger could see the faint shape of a brown kitten pressing against the washing machine door, pawing at it desperately.

"Harley, do you mind telling me why you shut Electra in a washing machine?" he said, trying not to sound amused. The spotted girl shrugged and grinned again. "Well, whatever. You're about to learn a lesson in how to rescue others from human necessities."

The maine coon stood onto his hind legs and curled his claws around the small, concealed handle in the machine door. With some forceful pulling, the door made an odd squelching sound and eventually came lose from the water seal. Slimy rain water splattered onto his hind-feet as Electra flopped wearily from the gaping hole.

"You know what this means, Electra," he said, shaking his sopping feet in annoyance. "Don't ever hide in washing machines. I'm gonna smell like a bloody sewer for days."

"Don't worry, I'm sure Bomb-bu-la-rina will clean you off," Etcetera put in snidely, emphasising each syllable. He rolled his eyes at her in frustration. She sure got bold around her friends. What happened to the little innocent kitten that had asked him the most embarrassing question in existence?

"Don't be jealous, love," he sighed. "Hey, I'm sure she'll love licking waste water off of my feet, even if I am the Rum Tum Tugger. Now, you lot get lost and carry on your game – I need some civilised conversation with someone who isn't still a kid. Or some more sleep, at least. We're planning a major rescue plot here, and we don't need you guys shutting each other in a fridge or something."

"We won't, Tugs!" Etcetera giggled. The other kittens followed suit, despite his attempt at an insult. "Listen, we have something to ask you. We were talking about it yesterday."

Tugger rubbed his forehead and swore under his breath. "What is it?"

"Can we leave the Junkyard for like, half an hour? The queens said no!"

"And for a good bloody reason, too!" the maine coon said loudly, making the kittens jump. Were these kids lacking the mental capacity to use common sense? The answer to their question was blatantly obvious, unless they had a death-wish of some sort. "There's an evil, Jellicle-murdering tribe of cats out to rip our heads off if they see us, and you want to leave? Hmm, let's think about this for a second." He turned on them moodily. "If I let you leave, the queens would most definitely take it upon themselves to disembowel me and do some sort of ritual in my blood to curse my soul forever. Not only that, but you would end up killed. I think I'll have to say no on this occasion, don't you agree?"

"But Tugsy!" The kittens whined loudly, their eyes growing dangerously huge. "We have important business to do!" Electra added, stumbling on the words slightly.

"You and important business don't mix, I'm afraid. Stick to your kitten games and be sensible. I know I'm not exactly the greatest role model as I would do the exact opposite of what I just said, but _stay here, _unless you want to be Macavity's next breakfast."

"But-"

"_No!_ Jeez, do I have to spell it out for you?"

Etcetera began protesting again, but the oldest kitten, Victoria – who was now technically a queen – quickly shut her up. There was an odd, victorious look on her bright, white face.

"We can't leave, Etcy. However, at least we know now Tugger does care about us. That's all that really matters. We can tell him our plan."

Tugger slowly began edging away from the bundle of kittens. He didn't like that they were old enough to start their own conspiracies and missions, most of which probably involved him in some way. Although, they could have chosen to be helpful for once and added parts to his current rescue plan, even if that possibility was rather slim. He stopped inching to an escape and brought his ears forward.

"What plan?"

"We were going to find you food, Tugsy!" Etcetera wailed randomly, despair evident in her form. "You haven't eaten in forever! We were going to go to a butchers or something. Can we go now?" the splodged kitten begged. Surprise warmed Tugger's chest slightly. True, their secret little plan wasn't helpful in any way to him, but it was also true he hadn't eaten for ages. He hadn't even thought about the concept of food, which was rare for such an indulgent cat. It was a nice thought – touching, even – they were willing to travel into the midst of London just to get him something to eat. Maybe being Jellicle Leader did have its bonuses.

"Oh, er, thanks, but no." He said pathetically. "I can take care of myself, in case you forgot. Still, it was nice of you to consider it, I must say." The maine coon bestowed upon them one of his famous winks. "Maybe you lot do have a bit of good will inside. However, the older queens – or the coven, as I like to call them – were right in saying no to you. What they say goes too, okay?"

"'Kay, Tugsy," they sighed, all but one certain henchcat batting their eyelids.

It suddenly occurred to him how little time he had spent with Bombularina since his return. She had obviously taken it upon herself not to make her presence to him as to not disturb the maine coon, which he was ever so slightly grateful for, but now his mind was going on a long, turbulent guilt trip. Who had cleaned his wounds while Munkustrap and Deuteronomy had been considering his execution? Bombularina. Maybe a bit of consideration for her devotion wouldn't kill him, even if it did get a bit gooey.

Leaving the kittens to tumble around like screaming lunatics, he travelled across the Junkyard to the centre where the old red car laid. That was one of Bombularina's favourite chill-out spots as it was Demeter's den. Knowing them, they would be gossiping away merrily and giggling like two Etceteras. However, he wasn't expecting to find them embracing and mewling into each other's coats. Had one of them broken a claw?

"Yo," he said uncertainly, scratching his head. "What's wrong?"

Demeter turned to face him with steely yet fairly watery eyes. Bombularina strongly contrasted the evilness of the look with an expression of joy at his arrival. The scarlet queen made to go to him, but apparently thought that Demeter's needs were more worthwhile and halted.

"Unlike you I happen to be missing Munkustrap!" Demeter howled angrily, looking very unlike the goddess she was named after. "You still have Bombularina, but who do I have to share my affections? Munk could be wasting away, starving, in agony –"

"Whoa, Dems. Ever heard the term 'glass half full'? Jeez, way to be optimistic. To be honest I'm trying not to imagine my father and brother as a pile of fur and bones. It's a bit depressing. On the other paw, imagining our impending victory gives me a much better feeling."

"So you care more about killing Macavity than saving your family?" Demeter spat, moving away from Bombularina. The maine coon took a few seconds to count to ten as to not lose his temper with his brother's mate. He knew she was angry, but at times, some things she said were way out of order.

"You," he pointed at her. "Shut up. You," he said again, now pointing at Bombularina. "I want to snog your face off."

The red queen's eyes brightened and a hint of her saucy nature seemed to wink at him from her irises. However, as soon as the old attitude came into play, it seemed to slip away from her and left the poor queen sat hunched on the car bonnet, looking at her paws. Demeter shot her a grateful look.

Tugger folded his forelegs and eyed the pair with irritation. What did he have to do to get some female attention nowadays? A week or so ago he'd only have to swagger into their vicinity and they'd be crawling over him.

"Demeter, may I please have your permission to borrow Bombularina for a few minutes so I can show my appreciation of her?" he asked through his teeth. Apparently healed of all emotional ills, Demeter smirked triumphantly and gently pushed her friend off of the car bonnet. "You have some serious issues with authority, Dems. How the hell Munkustrap has put up with you so far, I don't know."

Her expression turned foul again.

"You might be the Jellicle Leader, Tugger, but you're not _my _leader."

"I bloody well am. Deal with it," he said, placing his paws on his hips.

"Deuteronomy is still alive, Tugger. You're no more the leader than Macavity," Demeter said snidely. "Though now I think about it, it's more Macavity's right to be leader than yours. It's a shame he's probably going to kick it once you're through with him."

"Not a shame; more of a big bonus if you ask me. The conniving toothbrush will never show his face again. And stop it with the Macavity sympathy, will you? It's not attractive."

The two cats glared at each other silently, having an instinctive staring contest to see who would turn away first. Tugger's innards were boiling slightly as he tried to contain his anger. Who did Demeter think she was, putting him down like that? He didn't want to be immodest, but he was probably the only chance the Jellicles had of ridding London of Macavity, even if it did lead to his own demise.

Suddenly, a bout of fear sent panic coursing through him, and he quickly looked at the floor, eyes wide. His mind seemed to drift from reality as a small voice whispered faintly from his conscience. His own demise? What was he thinking?

"Tugger?" he heard Bombularina say nervously. Her voice cleared his thoughts for a few seconds, but then they all collided once again, clouding his mind. The voice was slightly louder now. He could hear what it was saying.

_One of you must fall. Just make sure you make the right choice, dear, and as hard as it may be, the outcome will be wondrous._

So, he had finally 'accepted his fate' as Nyxinne often put it. Did that really mean saving the other toms would result in him choosing between his own and Macavity's life? How did that even work? Obviously he would choose for the red fiend to kick it instead of him. Tugger rubbed his forehead in deep thought, trying to unravel the riddle that his brain had reminded him of.

"Yeah, he loves you so much that he's forgotten you exist, Bomba," Demeter said. Another spasm of anger shot through Tugger at her comment. Looking up slowly, he saw the haughty queen watching him with a look of power in her eyes. It clicked with him that since she knew his deepest secret, her knowledge brought with it a certain longing to be better than him. They had both suffered under Macavity's claws, and Demeter obviously wanted to be the better of the two to try and regain some lost dignity.

"Don't take it out on Bomba," he said, sending a deeper message to her with his eyes. She narrowed her own and turned away.

"Sorry, Bomba," she said, gritting her teeth. "I didn't mean it."

Tugger's heart warmed as the scarlet queen arched her back and rubbed along his flank, nuzzling him with her exquisite muzzle. Having the ever-beautiful Bombularina by his side was more than enough for him for the time being. She was worth more than the moon and stars put together, with her fierce eyes and kind-hearted soul. Worth more than the egomaniac that was Demeter.

Said cat flicked her tail in disapproval, though didn't comment on Bombularina's affectionate actions. Tugger briefly began to wonder if she was a sadist. After all, she had a look on her face that clearly showed she was imagining him dying in a particularly painful manner, possibly being hacked to death by a humungous pollicle.

"I missed you," Bombularina murmured. "I know it's only been a few hours since I last saw you, but …"

"Never mind, sweetheart," Tugger replied, gracing her with a smile. "I missed you too. I think I may have dreamt about you in the short time period which involved me sleeping."

"Really? What did you dream of?" The scarlet queen said quietly, lowering her gaze in what he took to be a very seductive action. "Nothing bad, I hope."

"Why Bomba, I haven't had a nightmare since I first laid eyes upon you," Tugger grinned, referring to his library of chat-up lines to contribute to their flirting. She giggled lowly, which apparently was the last straw for Demeter.

"Ugh," the moody queen growled. "Get a room." She swung onto her feet and stalked away from the area, leaving the two cats alone in the slight clearing.

"What was with that random daydream earlier?" Bombularina asked, grasping one of his paws with her own. "It seemed fairly important."

Tugger scratched his ear nervously. Why did queens always pick up certain emotions at the wrong time?

"I just had an epiphany about something," he said, trying to lock his gaze onto hers. She wasn't convinced.

"What about?"

"Erm … breakfast?"

"You're not going to tell me, are you." It wasn't a question.

"It's nothing important. Really." Tugger rolled onto his back and circled his paws in the air playfully, as if riding a bike. He didn't like dwelling on such grim matters, and he wasn't planning on killing Bombularina via heart attack by telling her what had occurred to him.

"You're a big fat liar," the queen sighed, rolling onto her own back to join him.

"I'm not fat."

"You're still a liar." She rolled over again and folded her forelegs over his chest, resting her chin upon them. "It seems weird that we're here, just hanging out when most of our friends have gone missing. I wish I knew what you had up your sleeve, Rum Tum Tugger."

"But Bomba, I have no sleeves, therefore there is no trickery or Mistoffelees-ish mischief involved with my cunning plan. We'll get them back Bonfire Night, I promise you."

"Mhmm," she mumbled. "I just hope nothing bad happens to them for the next few days. I'm missing Munkustrap and his overly-dramatic body language, and Mungojerrie … Rumpleteazer's in a right state."

"I guess I need to see her," Tugger said, trying to block away the guilt that was rising. "And Tantomile. They've both lost their other halves."

Bombularina rubbed her head on Tugger's mane lightly, purring in contentment. The sides of her throat vibrated as the deep rumbling grew louder and louder, soon becoming the only noise in Tugger's head. His paws automatically twitched as a very familiar feeling was coming over him; the warm yet exciting feeling that often made his feline instincts take over. Bombularina appeared to be feeling the same thing. The queen looked at him with deep eyes, her eyelids low and her teeth biting over her lip mischievously.

"You know, we haven't been alone in a while," Tugger began casually, perfecting the curl of fur on his head. The purring grew louder.

"You know I'm due to be in heat," Bombularina scolded, though she squirmed against him, her tail whipping around violently.

"You're not yet."

"True. Let's get out of here."

* * *

Mistoffelees's small heart leapt in excitement as he finally saw the sun appear from behind a tall, grey building, its bright rays enveloping him in its meagre warmth. Though he preferred the moon, the nights were freezing now it was November, the month drifting between autumn and winter. The mysteriousness October left behind was still drifting about in the air, though a cold, light drizzle eventually swept it away, along with the mushy remnants of pumpkin innards and sweet wrappers. Halloween was over, and now it was time for the fireworks. The magician didn't bother to slink around in the alleys like a criminal, and instead allowed the humans to admire his obviously cute little bow tie. Or were they mocking it? It didn't matter. He just wanted to absorb as much sunlight as possible before London was cast beneath a sheet of grey clouds for winter's duration.

His meeting with the Tribe had gone remarkably well. Their plans were set - all that was left was for Mistoffelees to reveal the fact he had never been kidnapped by Macavity. He wasn't sure whether Tugger was going to be angry or happy at his arrival. He'd probably greet the younger tom with a hard punch in the face, and then an approving punch in the shoulder. Such was the way of the brother of Macavity. Lots of punches. Mistoffelees's arm hadn't quite recovered from the birthday beats he had received last June.

Now he was travelling through the east end of London, a place notorious for criminal cats and thieving kittens. Many poor toms and queens had been mugged or kidnapped in the dark alleyways that gaped by the side of buildings, apparently holding nothing but rubbish bins and soggy newspaper sheets. Mistoffelees hated walking through here, despite his magical talents. He didn't want to admit it, but he got scared quite easily, and when he was scared his paws didn't seem to work. He wished he was more like the bold Tugger, the cat that would sock anyone around the face for insulting him or his friends. Maybe that wasn't a good thing, but it was better than being a wimp.

He was nearly at the Junkyard now. Relief filled his system and rejuvenated him slightly, as his journey across London had made him fairly tired. Not only that, but he didn't even know if anyone was actually there. What if the henchcats had gone back for Tugger and the queens? Mistoffelees shuddered and quickened his pace.

Crossing the street before a car could turn the corner and squish him, the young tom let his eyes fall upon the sight of the Junkyard. It looked, for a lack of a better word, rather beautiful in the dull sunlight, made up of treasure instead of worthless human rubbish. Perhaps it was just his biased opinion, but this was without a doubt the best dwelling for any tribe in the country. Well, better than a smelly tyre yard, at least. Embarrassingly, he had fallen into a large pile of tyres when leaving the other tribe's domain and had to be pulled out by rather amused toms.

He trotted through the familiar, rusty gates and sniffed the air. To his relief, he could smell the queens even through the drizzle. Many of them must have been in heat. For some reason this didn't really affect him as it would Tugger, but that was probably because the large maine coon had a lot more room for testosterone and other such male equipment.

Finally reaching the centre of the yard, the magician looked about for his fellow tribe members. He came across several backsides waving about in the air as the owners had their heads stuck in a pile of cardboard boxes. Harrumphing, he tried to get their attention.

"Male cough?" he heard Etcetera say suspiciously, pulling her head from the soggy boxes. The other kittens followed suit and turned around.

If he wasn't so tired, Mistoffelees would have laughed at their facial expressions.

Etcetera just sat with her jaw hanging open, whilst Jemima and Electra made loud squealing noises that sounded like a mix of joy and horror. Victoria stayed silent and expressionless, as usual, though who was the other kitten next to her?

"_Misto!"_ Etcetera shrieked, piercing his eardrums painfully. She rubbed her eyes in amazement, then sprang towards him before he had even processed her scream. The poor magician was immediately smothered with female kitten hugs and deafened with excited squeals, and he was pushed to the floor with the ferocity of their affections. He knew he was popular, but seriously. It wasn't like he had just descended from Heaviside and done loop-the-loops with big angel wings.

"Why are you here? You should be with the toms!" Electra said loudly, holding his tail as if to stop him from running away. "Dude! The coven's gonna kill you."

He didn't bother asking who the coven was.

"I'll explain later," he promised, squeezing himself out of the joyful pile of cats. "I need to see Tugger, like, now! Do you know where he is?"

"Oh, so no hello?" Victoria put in, her pure white coat gleaming through the drizzle. "How rude."

"Sorry, I'm just really tired and I have urgent stuff to tell Tugger. You won't believe what I've gone and done to try and help out," the tuxedo tom said sheepishly, scratching his head. "I promise to come and talk to you all later, but there's some adult business to sort out, and …"

"Alright, Misto!" Etcetera sang, doing a strange little dance on her paws. "We're just glad you're back! Tugger's gone off with Bombularina somewhere. He had that perverted look on his face, so I'll doubt he'll be back anytime soon." The splodged kitten said, looking less happy at this memory.

"Oh, I don't know," Mistoffelees shrugged, grinning. "He'll stop at anything to see _me_, because he knows I'll just make his mane go all static for days. Such is my power." He pinged his bow-tie.

The kittens giggled into their paws, apart from the strange spotty one Mistoffelees had never seen before. He noticed her staring at him with an odd look, as if calculating what he had just said. Was this another cat who had never heard of him? Impossible, such a thing could never happen, especially when all cats in the area were so close-knit! When someone said 'magician', everyone automatically thought 'Mistoffelees' afterwards, obviously. Had this kid lived under a dustbin lid her whole life?

"Bast, it's so cool having you back. It gives us a bit of hope!" the dark Jemima said sweetly, curling a bit of her head-fur around a claw in a rather innocent manner. "We'll get the toms back soon. I know we will."

The young tuxedo stared at their bright, happy faces. Perhaps things weren't as dire as he thought. Had Tugger and the queens already thought of a plan that was sure to work? Had his efforts been wasted?

"Mistoffelees?" came another voice. It was deep, husky, and could belong to no one other than the mysterious Cassandra. The sleek queen made herself apparent from behind the oven, staring at him with large, blue eyes. "I thought I'd sensed you." She said, almost smugly.

A few more queens appeared behind her. The clearing in the centre of the Junkyard was gradually filling up with female cats, who watched him in astonishment. After a few seconds of recognition, the magician was crushed yet again as the queens performed amazing tackling skills in order to hug or talk to him, and very soon it felt like the whole Junkyard was alive yet again, as if nothing had ever happened. All of the cats chattered excitedly at his arrival and set him down to ask questions. A few were even crying, which made him go a bit fuzzy. He didn't expect to be so popular with the ladies. At least, he hoped they were crying from joy, and not from pre-heat stress. Otherwise they would probably hang, draw and quarter him in a matter of minutes.

It was good to be back. After all the panic he had felt about leaving, it was like he had been gone for years.

And then everyone suddenly stopped shouting welcomes and approvals. The voices died down as heads turned to a direction behind him, watching something he couldn't see. Mistoffelees heaved and turned his body, a job made a lot harder by the queens squishing him in tight hugs. Surprise made his eyes widen.

It was Tugger, and he didn't look happy.

"Er," the magician began, waving pathetically. "Sorry I'm late."

Those golden eyes narrowed dangerously. There was something different about the maine coon, despite the fact they had been separated for only a short while. Not only did he look rougher and bigger, but there was also a shadow across his eyes that Mistoffelees had never seen before. It was a bad shadow. Was it Mistoffelees's fault that Tugger was obviously going through some sort of mental crisis?

"Late?" Tugger hissed, walking towards him slowly. The queens parted like smoke. "I'm guessing you were never with the other toms, then."

Mistoffelees took a small step backwards. Tugger was being strangely intimidating and suspicious, and there was a dark gleam in his eye that told the magician he was in big trouble. Well, he had to get whatever was coming over with, otherwise Tugger might secretly despise him forever.

"I ran to get help," he squeaked, suddenly feeling very kitten-like again as Tugger's shadow fell over his small form. "I – I have good news for you-"

A sharp pain suddenly slammed through his chest. He heard loud shrieks from the queens, and cries of protest from the kittens. What had happened? Had Tugger struck him?

"_Why-"_ he heard someone shout, "_did you run away?!"_

The pain was still there. Mistoffelees opened his eyes and realised that the maine coon was clutching him by his chest fur, his strong paws digging into his chest. Had his feet actually come off the floor? Was Tugger going to throw him over the Junkyard like a ragdoll with a bow-tie?

"Tugger!" Another voice shouted. "Tugger, stop it!"

"_Answer _me!" The beastlike creature holding Mistoffelees seethed, tightening his grip. The magician squeaked again. He occurred to him how much smaller he was compared to Tugger, and that he could be rolled up like a piece of paper and fed to rats just to cheer the maine coon up.

"I went to another tribe! One Deuteronomy knows!" the magician choked, trying to pull Tugger's paws away from his chest. He failed pathetically. "I asked them to help us get the toms back, and they've agreed! Please, I didn't mean to scare you, Tugger-"

"Why the hell didn't you _tell_ me?! Would it have been so hard to just let me know what you were going to do? The queens are in pieces over this, and you're gallivanting off to the other side of London like the freakin' Pied Piper's cat! What was going through your mind?!"

"I … I saw the toms being kidnapped," Mistoffelees gasped. "I got scared, but I knew what I had to do. I knew that if I told you, you would have wanted to come with me! That would have helped the queens even less! I'm sorry, Tugger."

The maine coon's grip loosened, but he still stared down at the tuxedo tom with such fire in his eyes it was unbelievable. Finally, he roughly let Mistoffelees go, causing the young cat to fall onto his backside.

"Understandable," the maine coon seethed, one of his eyelids twitching dangerously. "It's good to have you back."

Tugger turned his large back on Mistoffelees and began to pace like a caged animal, his tail jerking violently from side to side. Mistoffelees was confused now, even through the stinging pain that was gouging into his poor chest. Tugger should have been smiling by now, maybe even congratulating. The magician wasn't used to such abuse, especially from his best friend. Were there deeper motives behind Tugger's random temper? Or had he missed something important? No, he dismissed that idea. Surely the kittens would have told him of any deaths or disappearances. Besides, pretty much all the queens were surrounding him now, though he noticed Bombularina wasn't among their number. Had Tugger and Bombularina argued?

Mistoffelees watched the maine coon pace, and felt an unnerving spasm of fear. What his friend had done had scared him slightly. That sort of violence was always reserved for enemy cats and pollicles, not poor, innocent magicians.

"Everyone," the maine coon suddenly announced, his voice surprisingly emotional. "I may as well tell you the news now that you're all here. I don't want you to be hearing any exaggerated _rumours._" Tugger shot a quick glance at Jennyanydots, who stared at him with no expression. Mistoffelees couldn't decide whether she was angry or scared. Maybe it was both. "It's been confirmed by Jennyanydots that … that Bombularina is pregnant."

Everyone stifled gasps under their paws. Even Mistoffelees found himself with his jaw hanging from his face, despite the fact he looked like an idiot sprawled on his backside. She was _pregnant?_ With Tugger's kitten? Unbelievable! Finally, some good news had shone forth from the horrors that had previously occurred. Mistoffelees began to congratulate, but the look on Tugger's face made everyone stay silent. Did he see this as being bad news? What could be better than him finally being a father? Perhaps he knew that a new miniature Tugger would be just as much a hellion as he was, maybe worse. …No, Tugger probably would have been pleased at that fact. So why was he so against Bombularina's pregnancy?

"She has been for a while now," Tugger continued, lowering his eyes to the ground. "Her signs have been so weak even she didn't notice. It's due in two weeks."

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds. Some cats looked at each other nervously, unsure of what to say. However, a small striped queen with a matching leotard stood on her hind legs, a big grin on her cheeky face. It was Rumpleteazer.

"I'm gonna be an _aunt_," she exclaimed in a cockney accent, beating her paws together in a muffled applause. "You knocked 'er up, you naugh'y thing, Tugger! Well done!"

Everyone joined in the round of applause, even Mistoffelees, despite that he had just been mutilated by Tugger's strong paws. Though he couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed that all the attention had suddenly gone from him, even though everyone had thought he was as absent as the other toms a mere few minutes ago. What also annoyed him was Rumpleteazer's assumption she would be a relative to the kitten once it was born. _He_ was Tugger's closest friend. Didn't he have as much right to be its uncle as Munkustrap? Well, maybe not, but still. He would teach it all the card tricks under the sun.

His eyes wandered back to Tugger, and his heart panged. Whilst everyone was nattering excitedly about the news, the maine coon was stood in his own little shadow, an almost sad look in his eyes. Emotion was spilling from the large cat in waves so prominent Mistoffelees could hardly believe that the other queens couldn't sense it. Was it nerves? Guilt? Or did he know something nobody else did?

* * *

Tugger took a deep, long breath as his vision threatened to fade. He was sad. He was angry. He was proud. But most of all, he felt like he was going to throw up onto his hind paws. Too many emotions had played on him that day; including eye-popping horror at hearing Jennyanydot's news, and gut-wrenching anger at Mistoffelees's confession. But positive emotions were poking through the dark cloud rumbling in his chest, sometimes warming his mind. For example, his bloodline was being continued in the queen he loved, and his best friend had miraculously appeared out of nowhere. Those were two great things, right? So why did he feel so bad?

Deep down, he knew the answer, but he just didn't want to face it.

Trying to look as important as he could, he looked at the small tuxedo tom. The thing looked bewildered – scared, even, but Tugger didn't feel bad for lashing out. Mistoffelees had deserved it. Plus, it had felt good letting a bit of frustration out, even if it was on his best friend.

"You," he said, his voice wobbling. What was he _thinking?_ Maybe it was him who was the sadist, instead of Demeter. He needed to learn some self control as soon as possible; otherwise he'd probably end up throwing something large and heavy at the magician. "Come with me. We have to talk about the other tribe's plans."

Mistoffelees visibly gulped and slunk towards Tugger like puppy that knew it had done something wrong. His tail was curled under his hind legs in a mix of shame and embarrassment – the queens were watching him walk to his interrogation, and probably his execution.

Tugger allowed his expression to soften slightly. Alright, maybe yanking out Mistoffelees's chest fur wasn't the best of ideas. He needed to resort to the commonly used phrase: 'what would Munkustrap do?' in such situations. The large tom turned and walked away from the queens, towards his father's bureau den and out of sight.

"So," Tugger muttered, sitting down in front of the doors. The younger tom sat before him with his head lowered in submission. "Now you've taken it upon yourself to appear, what've you told the other tribe?"

"Er," Mistoffelees began sheepishly. "What happened, obviously. I tried to hide my identity but … I forgot to take off my bow tie. I was recognised by their leader." He scratched one of his ears, chancing a glance at his friend.

Tugger rolled his eyes and stood again to pace, his ears twitching.

"Not only are you too crap at acting to pull that off, it was a bloody useless idea. What would that have achieved? They would have known who you were as soon as they recognised _me._"

"Dunno, it was just a precaution. Some tribes are suspicious of cats with magic. It reminds them of Macavity, I suppose."

Tugger thought back to Nyxinne's story. The magician was right – many cats still were cautious to magical felines. If that tribe's leader was suspicious of Mistoffelees, the poor magician would have been thrown out straight away.

"What have you planned with them?" Tugger asked, dismissing his previous question. "The issue here is timing. Me and the queens have already organised everything."

"Well, I know how you think, Tugger," Mistoffelees looked up, his face brighter now. "I knew that you'd plan to give Macavity a taste of his own medicine and grace him with a surprise visit, but obviously, it'll be pretty hard to get a bunch of cats past his goons. I told the other tribe to come here on Bonfire Night, just before twilight. Does that sound good?" The young tom finished his words with a very Tugger-like gesture of buffing his claws.

"Damn you, you smart-arse. If you had gotten that wrong we'd be screwed right now." Tugger grinned, suddenly amused by Mistoffelees's smugness. He could never stay angry at his friend for long lengths of time, even though he _had _technically pretended to be kidnapped for the past few days. "Listen," Tugger continued, "sorry about like, grabbing you. I just got really pissed off."

"It's alright, Tugger, I understand that you were actually just happy I'm back, even if you do have an abstract way of showing it." Mistoffelees patted his chest absent-mindedly. "On the other paw, I think you shouldn't act so dramatically to your kittens when they're born."

"Yeah. Bombularina would kill me."

"Seriously, Tugs, congratulations. I mean, that's the best news of heard for … years. Rum Tum Tugger, finally settling down with a mate and kittens. Who would have thought it?"

"Not me, that's for sure." Tugger ran a paw over his head, not looking at his friend. Out of the corner of his eye, the maine coon could see Mistoffelees watching him with a calculating expression. He tried to recompose his own face.

"Where's Bombularina now, Tugs?" Mistoffelees asked randomly.

"Er, her den? I was busy watching her throw up until you arrived."

"Oh. Is she pleased?"

"Well, apart from the whole throwing up bit, yeah."

Tugger sighed and shot a quick smile at his small friend.

"Today, you help us think of names," he said. "Day after tomorrow, we're kicking Macavity's arse."

* * *

Cassandra allowed the tears to rain down her cheeks. The tom she loved had been taken from her forever. In the name of Bast, _why_ did Bombularina have to go and get pregnant? In doing so, she had doomed Cassandra's own chances of being with Tugger. The scarlet queen was a dear friend, but she couldn't help but despise her at this time. The cursed kittens in her friend's womb had destroyed her. Why wasn't she allowed to be happy? Why couldn't she be completed? Why was she doomed to be separate from a tom - whom she knew was her other half - forever? Her past life had failed her. The moon didn't shine upon the sleek queen anymore. She was forgotten. Forgotten by the Everlasting Cat, and forgotten by _him_, the one tom her affections had rested upon for an immeasurable amount of time. Now she was just a part of the crowd, nothing but a friend to the Jellicle Leader.

* * *

Butch sniffed around an open dustbin with a calm aura of patience – something that usually never graced his being. But he was feeling much calmer, much more composed, now that Macavity had decided he wasn't pollicle meat. For some reason, the red fiend had decided to pull Butch from what he called 'planning duty', and to put him back onto the streets. Butch knew this was because none of the other goons had any intelligence whatsoever. The scarred tom was Macavity's best hench, and he had been the whole while he had served him.

The dustbin moved. Butch took a step backwards and sheathed his claws. Suddenly, the sandy tom Topper shot out of the top and onto the concrete floor, landing clumsily on his face.

"Jesus Christ!" Butch cried, his heart beating violently from the shock.

"No, but the resemblance is remarkable," Topper snickered. He got to his feet and wiped his nose. "I ain't followin' you, by the way. I was 'ere already."

"Obviously."

"Alrigh', calm down, calm down! Stop it with the temper, Butchy," the scrawny tom continued with an undignified, wheezy chuckle. Butch growled.

"Just shut up, you stupid pollicle. You're not even supposed to be here! Go back to Macavity before he kills you!"

"Yup. 'E's gonna crap a brick when 'e finds out I'm gone, eh?" Topper rolled his eyes.

"He'll crap a whole friggin' pyramid if he finds out."

"So," the sandy tom said, waving the comment off. "What're you doin' 'ere, anyways? I've bagsied this lot of bins. They smell promisin'."

Butch stuck his chest out with authority, his eyes gleaming dully.

"Macavity has granted me another mission, one that can't be failed. That's more than what can be said for you, you worthless slug."

"And what would that be?"

"To send a message to the Jellicles as soon as possible," Butch grinned evilly. "Or more precisely, to Tugger. I'm gonna ask him to hand himself in, or the Jellicle toms' lives will be at serious risk. What do you think he can do in a situation like that, huh, Topper?"

* * *

I hope this is a bit better. Please review, and criticism is very welcome. Thanks for reading, and merry Christmas!!


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